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AMERICA ILLUSTRATED 


EDITED BY 



J. DAVID WILLIAMS 

'i 



NEW YORK 

"THE ECHO’’ PRESS 

46 BEEKMAN STREET 
1875 





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, 
By J. DAVID WILLIAMS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Eleetrotyped by SMITH & McDOUGAL, 82 Beekman St., N. Y. 



CONTENTS AND LIST OF ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGE. 

TITLE PAGE. i 

CONTENTS AND LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.3 

PREFACE . 5 

THE VALLEY OF THE YELLOWSTONE . . 

THE LOWER FALLS. 7 

THE LOWER CANON .. 8 

THE GRAND CANON . 9 

CRYSTAL FALLS . 10 

YELLOWSTONE LAKE.11 

THE HUDSON RIVER AT WEST POINT.12 

VIEW OF THE HUDSON FROM THE VICINITY OF WEST POINT.13 

NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA.i 4 

THE NATURAL BRIDGE...15 

TRENTON HIGH FALLS, NEW YORK.i 7 

PANORAMA OF TRENTON FALLS.i 9 

SQUAM LAKE, NEW HAMPSHIRE.20 

SQUAM LAKE.21 

THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 20 

SILVER CASCADE, CRAWFORD’S NOTCH.23 

MOUNT WASHINGTON AND THE WHITE HILLS.24 

MOUNT WASHINGTON RAILWAY ..25 

THE DEPOT AND SUMMIT HOUSE, MT. WASHINGTON.25 

LAKE GEORGE.27 

ROGER’S SLIDE, LAKE GEORGE.2 9 

MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY.30 

THE ENTRANCE. 30 

THE CHURCH. 3 r 

THE DEAD SEA.32 

THE BOTTOMLESS PIT. 33 

MINOT’S LEDGE LIGHTHOUSE, MASSACHUSETTS.34 

MINOT’S LEDGE LIGHTHOUSE. 35 

NIAGARA FALLS. 37 

THE RAPIDS ABOVE THE FALLS. 3 8 

ON THE ROCKS BELOW THE AMERICAN FALLS. 39 

GRAND VIEW OF THE HORSESHOE (CANADIAN) AND AMERICAN FALLS .... 40 

EAST RIVER SUSPENSION BRIDGE.41 

THE SUSPENSION BRIDGE CONNECTING BROOKLYN WITH NEW YORK .... 43 

DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.44 

THE FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.45 

DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.46 

THE RAFT.47 

THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE MISSISSIPPI AT ST. LOUIS.48 

“WOODING UP”.50 

THE LEVEE.51 

REMOVING SNAGS BY DREDGING.52 

SCENE AT BATON ROUGE DURING THE FLOODS OF 1874.53 

HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE YELLOWSTONE.54 

THE HOT SPRINGS NEAR GARDINER’S RIVER.• 54 

GREAT FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE.55 

BOILING SULPHUR SPRINGS.56 

HOT SPRING CONE.5 7 
















































4 


CONTENTS AND LIST OF ENGRA TINGS. 


PAGE 

GIANT GEYSER.58 

CASTLE GEYSER AND FIRE BASIN. 59 

THE GROTTO.60 

THE EAST RIVER.61 

GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS ON WARD’S ISLAND. 62 

OPENING OF THE SHAFT BENEATH HELL GATE.64 

THE YOSEMITE VALLEY . 65 

THE VALLEY OF THE YOSEMITE. 67 

YOSEMITE FALLS.69 

MIRROR LAKE AND MOUNT WATKINS. 7 ° 

EL CAPITAN FROM MERCED RIVER. 7 ° 

BIG TREE. 7 i 

SARATOGA SPRINGS AND SARATOGA LAKE. 73 

DUCK SHOOTING ON SARATOGA LAKE. 7 2 

A FEEDER TO THE LAKE .. 74 

PERCH FISHING ON THE LAKE. 74 

FISHING FROM A SAIL-BOAT. 75 

THE PROPOSED CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION AT PHILADELPHIA ... 75 

PHILADELPHIA FROM FAIRMOUNT PARK. 77 

THE REGION OF THE JUNIATA.78 

. / PEACE AND PLENTY. 78 

SCENE ON A CREEK EMPTYING INTO LITTLE JUNIATA. 79 

THE LITTLE JUNIATA AT TYRONE.80 

NIAGARA FALLS : PAST AND FUTURE . -.81 

A NIGHT VIEW OF NIAGARA IN OLDEN TIME.83 

SABBATH-DAY POINT, LAKE GEORGE.85 

VIEW OF SABBATH-DAY POINT, LAKE GEORGE.86 

THE ERIE CANAL. 87 

GRAIN-BOAT ON THE ERIE CANAL . . . 81 

BLUFF ON THE ERIE CANAL NEAR LITTLE FALLS.90 

IN THE ADIRONDACKS.92 

IN THE WILDS.93 

UPPER AUSABLE LAKE.95 

DEER ON LAKE ST. REGIS AT NIGHT.97 

THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER.99 

DISTANT VIEW OF MOQUI, WITH SHEEP-PENS IN THE FORE-GROUND . . . . 101 

ANOTHER VIEW OF MOQUI.103 

THE GRAND CANON.105 

LUMBERING ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. io5 

MAKING UP RAFTS ON THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER.r . 107 

THE HUDSON RIVER.10S 

THE PALISADES.109 

STONY POINT.no 

ENTRANCE TO THE HIGHLANDS NEAR NEWBURGH.111 

POUGHKEEPSIE.112 

PROPOSED BRIDGE ACROSS THE HUDSON AT POUGHKEEPSIE.113 

SUNSET ROCK, CATSKILL MOUNTAINS.114 

THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES.115 

MAIN STREET, BUFFALO, OPPOSITE THE CHURCHES.115 

BUFFALO HARBOR, FROM THE BREAKWATER.116 

BUFFALO CREEK, LOOKING OUT.117 

VIEW OF MILWAUKEE BAY, LAKE MICHIGAN . '.118 

MILWAUKEE RIVER.119 

GRAIN-VESSELS LEAVING CHICAGO.120 
















































PREFACE. 


T HE purpose of this work is to make the people acquainted with the superb creations of Nature that 
distinguish our country above all others. With such an extraordinary richness of material, we regret 
that our attention, owing to the fact that this work is designed for a special purpose, and that our space 
is, therefore, somewhat circumscribed, has necessarily been confined to the most prominent types of scenery. 
We have, however, endeavored in all cases to select as the subject of our illustrations those landscapes 
whose names have for years been familiar as household words, but of whose sublime beauty and mag¬ 
nificence, nevertheless, the great mass of our population, particularly those living in rural districts, have 
had no adequate conception. Descriptions without illustrations are indeed “ songs without words.” 

Although it can no longer be said of us that we are a people without a history, it must be admitted 
that many elements of the picturesque, plentiful in other lands, are lacking in this. There are no castles 
in our midst, whose ruined turrets and crumbled walls, in light and in shade, in sunshine and in storm, 
have furnished, for countless years, food for the artist’s pencil — a picture ever varying yet always the 
same. Neither, among our innumerable beautiful valleys, are there any in which for generations the 
landscape has remained absolutely without change, and whose inhabitants living in cottages of low¬ 
browed architecture, depend, not indeed as in the olden time for life and liberty, but even now for 
social status and, practically, for political representation, upon the will of a few dominant landed proprie¬ 
tors. All these things, with their romantic associations and antique legends, are absent, happily absent, 
fiom our country. The glory of the historic countries is their past. While pointing with a pardonable 
pride to the great cities we have created, to the countless miles of railroad we have constructed, to the 
broad rivers we have bridged, and to the enormous chasms over which we have erected viaducts, our glory 
is yet our future. 

On this continent Nature has, however, been so fantastic in many of her works, and has scattered her 
beauties around with such lavish profusion, that, to the true lover of the picturesque, America presents 
charms unknown to other lands. The grandeur and vastness of our mountains; the large-featured 
sublimity of the scenery of many of our rivers—so majestic in the fulness and evenness of their flow; 
the great extent of our wonderful underground caverns; the awfulness of the canons to be found in our 
western territories—many of which have been but recently, with great difficulty and danger, explored ; the 
immensity of our lakes—beyond all comparison the largest in the world ; the sublime beauty and height 
of our waterfalls—the greatest in volume and nearly the highest in the world ; and, above all, the extra¬ 
ordinary physical phenomena to be found in our Great National Park (the Valley of the Yellowstone),—so 
extraordinary as to surpass in actual fact the wildest conceptions of the most fantastic imagination ;—all 
these present a field which surpasses any other in richness of picturesque, and show that Nature has wrought 
with a bolder hand in this land than in those that boast of an older civilization. 

It is upon the faithful rendition of many of the most remarkable of these features, and of the most 
sublime of these beauties, that we rest the success of our enterprise. For over a year some of the most 
celebrated artists and wood-engravers of the metropolis have been engaged in the preparation of the beautiful 
engravings that illustrate the text of this volume; and a glance at the results of their labors will show, 
even to those inexperienced in such matters, that the best order of wood-engraving approaches, very closely, 
the more ambitious efforts on steel. 


6 


PREFA CE. 


The text has been printed from new type made expressly for this purpose, upon heavy, toned, 
and extra-calendered paper, and the result is a volume which, in sumptuous appearance and intrinsic 
value, wi.l bear comparison with works which are sold in the book and fine-art stores for fifteen dollars, 
and are considered honestly worth that price. With a single exception “AMERICA ILLUSTRATED” 
is the only complete work of the kind in existence ; and when it is borne in mind that that exception 
cannot be purchased for less than twenty times the subscription price of the journal with which this 
work is given away, it may be said to stand alone in its province. 


J. D. W. 


AMERICA 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE VALLEY OE THE YELLOWSTONE. 



W ITHIN the last 
three years a won¬ 
derful portion of the earth’s 
surface, of previously hid¬ 
den and, indeed, almost 
unsuspected beauty, has 
been opened up, by the 
persevering efforts of a 
body of explorers, selected 
from among men of sci¬ 
ence and adventure. The 
Yellowstone Region in the 
Rocky Mountains is de¬ 
scribed by those who have 
visited it as superior to all 
the other wonders of the American 
continent; and it does, in reality, ful¬ 
fil the most extravagant of the suppo¬ 
sitions to which its concealed marvels 
gave rise. For more than sixty years, 
ever since the existence of a lake, 
which they held to be the source of 
the Yellowstone River, was established 
in 1806 by the celebrated explorers 
Captains Clarke and Lewis, these 
marvels were vaguely hinted at and 
surmised. But the mystery is a mys¬ 
tery no longer ; and the official records 
of the government tell us what the 
brave men saw who penetrated to the 
valley, on whose south side are the 
- r Wind River Mountains, a snow-clad 
A'"'- barrier which no white man had ever 
crossed (prior to the expedition of Captain Jones in 
1873, these solitudes were thought impassable); on 
whose eastern side is the Snowy Mountain Range, and 
a grand cluster of volcanic peaks ; on whose north side 
are the Gallatin Range and the vast parallel ridges 
through which the tributaries of the Missouri pass 
northward. 

It was the exceptional difficulties which had to be 
surmounted before the Yellowstone Basin could be 
reached, that caused exploring expeditions to neglect it 
for so long a period. The Valley is walled in, as be¬ 
fore stated, by almost impassable mountain ranges. The 
famous western guide, Bridger, declared that a direct 


The Lower Falls. 
























8 


THE VALLEY OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 


route from Lower Wyoming was an absolute impossibility, and that a crow could not fly over it, 
unless it took provisions along. The first exploring party under Professor Hayden (1870) were 
compelled to take an exceedingly circuitous route, and to consume much time in following it. They 
went north in Montana as far as Fort Ellis, and then approached the Park from the upper side, 
fully four hundred miles out of the direct road. This apparent impassability has been the germ from 
which grew the marvelous stories told by western hunters and guides, and has made it, in the eyes 
of the savages, an abode of evil spirits. 

The expedition of Captain Jones, in the summer of 1873, demonstrated, however, that even 
guides are not infallible, and that Prof. Hayden had unnecessarily lengthened his journey. The 
Jones party broke camp at Fort Bridger, Wyoming, on June 12th, and proceeded in a north-easterly 
direction as far as the Valley of the Popo Agie. There the explorers changed their route, proceed¬ 
ing northwest to Two-Ocean Pass, and from thence north into the Yellowstone Basin. The most 
important fact developed by this expedition is that a railroad is practicable through the Wind River 
Valley across the foot-hills at the base of the Sierra Shoshone Mountains. The country at this 
point is well watered and timbered, and the soil is very rich—features which distinguish it strongly 
from the waste and barren regions that surround it. 

The history of the discovery of this region is as follows : “ In 1870, some of the officials and 
leading citizens of the territory of Montana organized the expedition known as the Hayden Expedi¬ 
tion, which, accompanied by a small escort of cavalry, started from Fort Ellis, a frontier military 
post, beyond which civilization did not then extend, and in thirty days explored the canons of the 
Yellowstone Valley, and the shores of Yellowstone Lake ; then crossing the mountains to the head¬ 
waters of the Madison, they visited the geyser regions of Firehole River, and ascended that stream 
to its junction with the Madison, along whose valley they returned to civilization, confident that they 
had seen the greatest wonders on the continent, and convinced that there was not on the globe an¬ 
other region where, within the same limits, nature had crowded- so much of grandeur and majesty 
with so much of novelty and wonder.” 

This does not seem to be an exaggerated estimate of the scenes which revealed themselves' to 
this and a second expedition which set out in the following year, led by Colonel Barlow, the chief 
engineer, and under special orders from General Sheridan ; and starting, as the former expedition 
had done, from Fort Ellis, ascended Gardiner’s River, and found themselves in a region of hot 
springs, the deposits from which cover the hillsides with quaint samples of natural architecture, form¬ 
ing a fitting introduction to the grander marvels of the valley. The deposit is snowy white, and has 
the form of a frozen cascade. The springs now in active operation cover an area of one square mile, 
while three or four miles are occupied by the remains of springs which have ceased to flow. These 

springs had been overlooked by the former ex¬ 
ploring party, so that they were actually first dis¬ 
covered in 1871, and they have already become the 
resort of many invalids, who speak highly of the 
virtues of the waters. They are at a height of six 
thousand feet above the sea; and south of them 
rises a domelike mountain two thousand feet higher, 
whose summit commands a view of fifty miles in 
every direction. From this summit the party 
descended into the Yellowstone Valley, by a path 
which combines every variety of beauty, boldness, 
fertility, grandeur, and gloom ; and includes an 
elevated plateau thirty miles in extent, dotted with 
groves of pine and aspen, with numerous beauti¬ 
ful little lakes scattered throughout its extent, and 
many springs, which flow down the slopes, and are 
lost in the vast volume of the Yellowstone. In 
their passage over this plateau the party came to a 
terrific rift — a preparation for the incomparable 
awfulness of the Grand Canon, which lay before 
them—a rift two thousand feet in depth, with the 
river rolling in its deeps, over volcanic boulders, in 



The Lower Canon. 















THE VALLEY OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 


9 


some places ; and in others, forming fathomless 
still pools. Small cascades tumble at different 
points from the rocky walls, and the river appears 
from the lofty summits a mere ribbon of foam in 
the immeasurable distance. “ Standing on the 
brink of the chasm,” writes one of the party, “ the 
heavy roaring of the imprisoned river comes to the 
ear only in a sort of hollow, hungry growl, scarcely 
audible from the depths. Everything beneath has 
a weird and deceptive appearance. The water 
does not look like water, but like oil. Numerous 
fish-hawks are seen busily plying their vocation, 
sailing high above the waters, and yet a thousand 
feet below the spectator. In the clefts of the 
rocks, hundreds of feet down, bald eagles have 
their eyries, from which one can see them swooping 
still farther into the depths, to rob the ospreys of 
their hard-earned trout.” A grand, gloomy, terrible 
place ; peopled with fantastic ideas, full of sha¬ 
dows and turmoil. At the head of this canon is 
the beautiful cataract. which the explorers called 
the Tower Falls, which, though its sheer fall is 
four hundred feet, is so hidden away in the dim light of overshadowing rocks and woods, its very 
voice hushed to a low murmur, that men might pass within half a mile of it, and not dream of its 
existence. 

But not until the Grand Canon is reached are the wonder and the dread of the region to be 
realized. Two of the explorers accomplished a descent into its fearful abyss at a point where the 
chasm is one thousand one hundred and ninety feet deep. Their ascent was most perilous, but the 
spectacle revealed to them was worth the risk. On entering the ravine, they came to hot springs of 
sulphur, sulphate of copper, alum, steam-jets in endless variety, some of them of very peculiar form. 
One of them, that of sulphur, had built up a tall spire, standing out from the slope of the wall like 
an enormous horn, with hot water trickling down its sides. They descended the channel of the creek 
for three miles, and were now one thousand five hundred feet below the brink, and after four hours 
of hard toil, reached the bottom of the gulf, and the margin of the Yellowstone, where they found 
the water warm, and tasting of alum and sulphur. The river-margin is lined with all kinds of chem¬ 
ical springs, some depositing craters of calcareous rock, others muddy, black, blue, or reddish water. 
“ The internal heat,” says Lieutenant Doane, “ renders the atmosphere oppressive, though a strong 
breeze drives through the canon. A frying sound comes constantly to the ear, mingled with the rush 
of the current. We had come down the ravine at least four miles, and looking upward, the fearful 
wall appeared to reach the sky. It was 3 p. m. and stars could be distinctly seen, so much of the 
sunlight was cut off from entering the chasm. Tall pines on the extreme verge appeared the height 
of two or three feet. The total depth is probably three thousand feet. There are perhaps other 
canons longer and deeper than this one, but surely none combining grandeur and immensity with 
such peculiarity of formation and profusion of volcanic or chemical phenomena.” The geologist of 
the party, Dr. Hayden, thus reads the history of this tremendous chasm: “ Ages ago, this whole 
region was the basin of an immense lake. Then it became a centre of volcanic activity; a vast 
quantity of lava was erupted, which, cooling under water, took the form of basalt; volumes of vol¬ 
canic ash and rock fragments were thrown out of the cratets from time to time, forming breccia as 
it sunk through the water and mingled with the deposits from silicious springs. Over this were 
spread the later deposits from the waters of the old lake. In time the country was slowly elevated, 
and the lake was drained away. The easily eroded breccia along the river channel was cut out 
deeper and deeper as the ages passed ; while springs, and creeks, and the falling rain combined to 
carve the sides of the canon into the fantastic forms they now present, by wearing away the softer 
rock, and leaving the hard basalt and the firmer hot spring deposits standing in massive columns and 
Gothic pinnacles. The basis material of the old hot spring deposits in silica, originally white as 
snow, are now stained by mineral waters with every shade of red and yellow—from scarlet to rose 



The Grand Canon. 





IO 


THE VALLEY OF THE YELLOWSTONE . 


color, from bright sulphur to the daintiest tint of cream. When the light falls on these blended 
tints, the Grand Canon presents a more enchanting and bewildering variety of forms and colors than 
human artist ever conceived.” 

Awful as it is to look upwards from the depths of the Grand Canon, it is infinitely more so to 
gaze downwards from its terrific verge. From the silent horror of the effort, the strong brave men 
of the exploring party shrank in agony, crawling backward from the edge in undisguised terror, and 
hardly able to realize their safety. 



The grandeur of the canon is at once 
heightened and diversified by the mag¬ 
nitude and beauty of its Upper and 
Lower Falls; the latter are especially 
striking. The sheet of water falls sheer 
three hundred and fifty feet (with a like 
height of terrible wall rising above it), 
in one unbroken symmetrical expanse, 
covered with white foam, while rainbows 
are formed in the spray from almost every 
point of view ; and the steep rocks near, 
constantly wet with rising mist, are cov¬ 
ered with bright green vegetation. The 
Upper and Lower Falls are only a quarter 
of a mile apart, the former turning over a 
precipice one hundred and fifty feet high. 
The scene at the Lower Falls is grandly 
beautiful. On either side the walls of 
the canon rise to a height of nearly a 
thousand feet, while far below the turbid 
waters of the stream writhe and eddy 
along their winding course. Mountain 
pines cover the steep banks, while here 
and there the withered trunk of a dead 
tree extends its white form over the foam¬ 
ing waters. You can not approach with¬ 
in a hundred yards of the Falls without 
becoming thoroughly drenched by the 
continual shower of snowy spray. Far 
below the Canon continues, seemingly a 
great fissure that was rent in the solid 
rock during some volcanic convulsion, 
leaving on either side the jagged walls of 
granite and basalt. 

The three principal lakes in the Park are the Yellowstone, Mystic and Shadow. The shape of 
Yellowstone Lake is exceedingly irregular, and one is constantly surprised at coming suddenly upon 
broad bays and inlets that extend far into the land. Of this lovely sheet of water, which has, in eleva¬ 
tion, but one rival, the South American lake Titicaca, the engineer-in-chief of the Hayden (1870) 
party, thus eloquently writes : “ Secluded amid the loftiest peaks of the Rocky Mountains, possess¬ 
ing strange peculiarities of form and beauty, this watery solitude is one of the most attractive natural 
objects in the world. Its southern shore, indented with long narrow inlets, not unlike the frequent 
fiords of Iceland, bears testimony to the awful upheaval and tumultuous force of the elements which 
resulted in its creation. The long pine-crowned promontories, stretching into it from the base of 
the hills, lend new and charming features to an aquatic scene full of novelty and splendor. Islands 
of emerald hue dot its surface, and a margin of sparkling sand forms its jeweled setting. The winds, 
compressed in their passage through the mountain gorges, lash it into a sea as terrible as the fretted 
ocean, covering it with foam.” But it lay before the explorers, when they saw it first, calm and 
unruffled, the most beautiful object which their toilsome journey had revealed. No fish save trout 
live in its waters, but they are thronged with waterfowl; great fleets of white swans and pelican sail 


Crystal Falls. 










THE VALLEY OE THE YELLOWSTONE . 


11 


over its bosom, and 
crowd its islets. 
The great river 
flows away from it 
in a deep and easy 
channel, a quarter 
of a mile wide; 
its superficial area 
is three hundred 
square miles. The 
Lake gives the 
strongest geologi¬ 
cal evidence of hav¬ 
ing been, at some 
remote period, a 
great inland sea. 
It is fed by the 
mountain snows, 
and Prof. Hayden 
reports that his 
deepest soundings 
were at three hun¬ 
dred feet. The wa¬ 
ter is a shade be¬ 
tween dark green 
and blue. 

The descriptions 
given by Professor 
Hayden, Captain 
Jones, Langford, 
Stevens and others 
who have been con¬ 
nected with vari¬ 
ous exploring par¬ 
ties, glow with en¬ 
thusiasm. They 
speak in the warm¬ 
est language of the 
grandeur of this 
remarkable region. 
Springs are most 
abundant, and 
sometimes hun¬ 
dreds can be found 
within the com¬ 
pass of a few rods, 
and hot and cold 
springs are often 
seen within a few 
feet of each other. 
“ The mountains 
are Gothic pala¬ 
ces, with twelve or 
fifteen feet ter¬ 
races, thousands 
of times larger 



Yellowstone Lake. 
































































































































































































12 


THE HUDSON RIVER A T WEST POINT 


than any ever attempted by human hands; cathedrals, some with numerous minarets ; enormous 
castles pitched on the higher hills, which are shaped perfectly like cones, and densely covered with 
forests of pine, giving their slopes a beautiful green color that contrasts strikingly with the brown 
tops ; walled gateways from below curved up to the summit; pavilions surmounting the smaller hills 
and looking like delightful summer resorts; fortifications* around the bases, arranged sometimes in 
series, one above the other ; one gigantic and perfectly shaped pyramid, excelling vastly the famous 
ones of Egypt—all shaped out of dark-brown metamorphic sand and limestone.” 

That portion of the Valley of the Yellowstone which has been set aside for a National Park 
comprises about 3,500 square miles of territory near the head-waters of the river that gives the region 
its name. Our attempt at description may be briefly summarized : There are vast gloomy canons 
through whose gorges rush the waters of numerous mountain streams ; walls of basaltic rock and 
granite rising in wild grandeur to the height of many hundreds of feet; placid lakes whose waters 
present for miles on miles surfaces of glassy smoothness, in strange contrast with the chaotic 
scenes around them ; wonderful springs that send up unceasingly volumes of gray mud, and geysers 
and glaciers that surpass those of Iceland. These form a panorama of physical marvels that will be 
interesting alike to the scientist and the tourist. What Mont Blanc and the Alps have been to the 
pleasure-seekers of the Old World, the Yellowstone Valley will be to those of the New. Its rugged 
magnificence will be a never-failing source of inspiration for painter and poet, and when civilization 
has built cities and marts of trade in the Western wilds that are now but thinly settled, and a thor¬ 
ough system of communication has been established between the Eastern sea-ports and all parts of 
our broad land toward the National Park, wanderers from all over the world will turn their faces 
hitherward to view Nature in her grandest shrine*. 


THE HUDSON RIVER AT WEST POINT. 

S INCE the time when Hendrick Hudson first sailed up the broad stream that bears his name, it 
has been a river of romance. The graceful prose of Irving has bestowed fame upon the Head¬ 
less Horseman and the sleepy good-for-naught Rip Van Winkle, and many poetic recollections 
cluster about the quiet waters and picturesque banks. The river flows through landscapes of varied 
beauty, and on either side, as far as the eye can reach, the dark outlines of the Kaatskills and High¬ 
lands loom up. The bosom of the stream is dotted with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats, 
and its silence is often broken by the steady paddle-stroke of the stately steamboats that ply be¬ 
tween the towns and cities on its shores. Our artist has taken as his subject for illustration the most 
beautiful and historically the most interesting portion of the river—West Point in the Highlands. 

The history of the spot on which the famous military academy stands is very romantic. Its 
natural strength made it a valuable site for a fortress, and the Continental Congress ordered the 
erection of Port Putnam at a point 598 feet above the level of the river, commanding a view of the 
surrounding country for many miles. An approach from the Hudson was made well nigh impossible 
by an almost perpendicular wall of rock, while on the western and south-western side the steep hills 
formed a strong barrier. A small force could hold the position for a long time against an enemy 
much superior. Above the fort, on a higher plateau, Fort Clinton and the other fortifications were 
built, forming altogether one of the most formidable strongholds in the world. 

That this important point came near being treacherously surrendered to the British in 1780, is a 
familiar fact to readers of American history. It was in command of Benedict Arnold, a man whose 
dissipation had plunged him deeply into debt, and who was ready to betray his trust for the double 
purpose of replenishing his purse and gratifying his private revenge. It is well known how nearly 
he succeeded, and how finally he failed. Major Andre, whom he was to meet to perfect the arrange¬ 
ments for the delivery of the fortress, was captured by three American soldiers, and the plot was 
discovered. 

Washington was to have made a visit of inspection to Fort Putnam and the other redoubts on 
this side the river, only two or three hours before his discovery of the treason of Arnold, at that 
moment as he supposed in command at West Point. The commander-in-chief was expected to 






VIEW OF THE HUDSON FROM THE VICINITY OF WEST-POINT. 































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































14 


THE NA TURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA. 


arrive the evening before, and had he done so, Arnold would probably never have escaped. Having 
accidentally met the French minister, M. de Lucerne, at Fishkill, however (eight miles above), he 
was induced to pass the night there for the purpose of some conference, and set off early in the morn¬ 
ing on horseback, sending on a messenger to Mrs. Arnold that himself and suite would be with her 
to breakfast. Arriving opposite West Point, near a small redoubt called Fort Constitution, Washing¬ 
ton turned his horse from the road. Lafayette, who was then in his suite, called out, “ General, you 
are going in the wrong direction; you know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us.” “ Ah,” 
answered Washington, “ I know you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get 
where she is as soon as possible. Go and take your breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for 
me : I must ride down and examine the redoubts on this side the river.” Two of the aides rode on, 
found breakfast waiting, and sat down at once with General Arnold and his family. While they 
were at table, a messenger came in with a letter for Arnold, which announced the capture of Andre, 
and the failure and betrayal, of course, of the whole conspiracy. Showing little or no emotion, though 
his life hung upon a thread, he merely said to one of his aides that his presence was required at 
West Point; and, leaving word for General Washington that he was called over the river, but would 
return immediately, he ordered a horse and sent for Mrs. Arnold to her chamber. He then informed 
her abruptly that they must part, possibly forever, and that his life depended on his reaching the 
enemy’s lines without delay. Struck with horror at this intelligence, she swooned and fell senseless. 
In that state he left her, hurried down stairs, mounted a horse belonging to one of his aides that 
stood saddled at the door, and rode with all speed to the bank of the river. A boat with six men 
was in waiting ; and, pretending that he was going with a flag of truce, he pulled down the stream, 
and arrived safe on board the Vulture sloop-of-war, lying some miles below. * * * Andre was 

carried to headquarters, and, after a military trial, was executed, notwithstanding the strenuous 
efforts of the British authorities to save him. Arnold served for a while in the enemy’s army. At 
the close of the war he went to Europe, where he died in obscurity, shunned by those to whom he 
had so basely sold his honor. 

The national military academy was established by Act of Congress in 1802. It is supported by 
the Government, and the cadets are under no expense for tuition or maintenance ; but they are 
required to serve in the regular army for a term of years after graduation. The appointments are 
made by Congressmen, and the candidates for admission must be between the ages of sixteen and 
twenty-one. The course of study, which is full and thorough in all that relates to a military educa¬ 
tion, requires five years for completion. The academy buildings are erected on a plain nearly two 
hundred feet above the Hudson, and cover an area a mile in circuit. In addition, there is ample space 
for the practice of gunnery, and the necessary military evolutions. The impression that cadets studied 
at West Point as a stepping-stone to some other profession seems to have obtained credence abroad. 
How erroneous was this opinion may be seen from the remarks of a distinguished European critic 
who has recently enquired into the subject, and who says: “The point which above all others must 
strike an observer is the extremely stern military spirit which pervades the whole discipline and 
teaching. The course is not only longer than at European colleges maintained for similar objects, 
but is probably more strict and exacting than that of any on the other side of the Atlantic.” 

For many years West Point was considered a useless expense by the people, and newly elected 
Representatives were wont to make the system of educating what they called “ military snobs,” the 
subject of their maiden speeches in the House ; but the war with Mexico, and especially the war 
of the Rebellion, gave ample testimony of its value. Gens. Scott, Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Mit¬ 
chell, and many other prominent Union generals graduated there, and the rebel leaders Lee, Pem¬ 
berton, Stonewall Jackson, and Johnson, also received from the National Government the military 
knowledge that enabled them to conduct their armies so well. 


THE NATURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA. 


B EFORP 2 the division of Virginia during the late war, Rockbridge county was one of the cen¬ 
tral counties of the State. It received its name from the famous bridge that lies within its 
confines, with the exception of which remarkable natural curiosity, it contains no attractions for a 
tourist other than well-cultivated fields and a prosperous farming population. 





THE NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA, 












































































i6 


THE NATURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA. 


From the middle of the eighteenth century the Natural Bridge has divided, with Niagara Falls, 
the wonder and admiration of travelers from Europe who have come to view the sublime creations of 
Nature in the Western World. It spans Cedar Creek, a small stream nearly dry in summer which 
flows into the James River, and it is apparently a solid rock in the form of an arch. The distance from 
the water to the nether side of the arch is about two hundred feet, and from that point to the upper 
side, forty feet; thus making the height of the bridge two hundred and forty feet. The chasm 
crossed by it is ninety feet wide. 

The physical causes that combined to form this stupendous structure have been the subject of 
much discussion among scientific men. The Marquis de Chastellux, a French gentleman of distin¬ 
guished attainments, who visited the Bridge in 1781, thus describes it: 

“ It is at the foot of these rocks, on the edge of a little stream which flows under this immense 
arch, that we must judge of its astonishing structure. There we discover its immense spurs, its 
back-bendings, and those profiles which architecture might have given it. The arch is not complete; 
the eastern part of it not being so large as the western, because the mountain is more elevated on 
this than on the opposite side. It is very extraordinary that at the bottom of the stream there ap¬ 
pear no considerable ruins, no trace of any violent laceration which could have destroyed the kernel 
of the rock and have left the upper part alone subsisting ; for that is the only hypothesis that can 
account for such a prodigy. We can have no possible recourse either to a volcano or a deluge, no 
trace of a sudden conflagration or of a slow and tedious undermining by the water.” 

From the description of the Baron de Turpin, a distinguished French engineer, who made the 
Bridge an object of special study, and who has written much on the subject, we subjoin the following : 

“The mass of rock and stone which loads this arch,” says the baron, “ is forty-nine feet solid on 
the key of the great centre, and thirty-seven on that of the small one ; and, as we find about the 
same difference in taking the level of the hill, it may be supposed that the roof is on a level the 
whole length of the key. It is proper to observe that the live rock continues also the whole thickness 
of the arch, and that on the opposite side it is only twenty-five feet wide in its greatest breadth, and 
becomes gradually narrower. The whole arch seems to be formed of one and the same stone ; for 
the joints which one remarks are the effect of lightning, which struck this part in 1779. The other 
head has not the smallest vein, and the intrados is so smooth that the martins, which fly around it in 
great numbers, cannot fasten on it. The abutments, which have a gentle slope, are entire, and, 
without being absolute planes, have all the polish which a current of water would give to unhewn 
stone in a certain time. The four rocks adjacent to the abutments seem to be perfectly homogene¬ 
ous, and to have a very trifling slope. The two rocks on the right bank of the rivulet are two hun¬ 
dred feet high above the surface of the water, the intrados of the arch a hundred and fifty, and the 
two rocks on the left bank a hundred and eighty 

“We see that these rocks, being of a calcareous nature, exclude every idea of a volcano, which, 
besides, cannot be reconciled with the form of the bridge and its adjacent parts. If it be supposed 
that this astonishing arch is the effect of a current of water, we must suppose, likewise, that this 
current has had the force to break down and carry to a great distance a mass of five thousand cubic 
fathoms, for there remains not the slightest trace of such an operation.” 

The Baron de Turpin’s scientific attainments were of so high an order that his opinions are 
always entitled to attention and respect; but it will be observed that he agrees neither with the 
elaborate scientific opinions that have been advanced in favor of the theory that it is the effect of 
some natural convulsion, nor with the popular conclusion that it was caused by the action of water 
through long ages, wearing away the limestone of which it is formed. Yet the Baron had himself 
no better theory to advance. The Bridge has also been visited by other European savans, but none 
of them have been more successful in their attempts at the elucidation of this natural wonder. 

The bridge first became generally known in consequence of the enthusiastic admiration expressed 
by President Jefferson, who proclaimed its beauties in extravagant terms, and attracted much atten¬ 
tion to it. It had been previously visited, however, by several noted Frenchmen, who had written 
eloquent descriptions of its magnitude and grandeur. 

Like most places of similar interest, the Natural Bridge has its traditions. Far up on its rugged 
face are cut the initials of General Washington, and above his are those of an adventurous youth 
who nearly lost his life through his foolhardy determination to place his name above all that had 
been cut there before. By far the finest view of the bridge is that from its base. Standing there 
and looking up at its rough uneven sides, one has an opportunity to estimate its real magnitude. 


TRENTON HIGH FALLS, NEW YORK. 


i7 


Cedar Creek flows along so quietly that even the suspicion that it was once a roaring torrent, with 
force sufficient to cut through the vast rock that now hangs over it, seems ridiculous. The distance 
makes the overhanging trees at the top look like diminutive bushes, while the shrubs that grow from 
the ledges and clefts are scarcely apparent, except in places where they grow thickly, and then they 
have the appearance of grass or moss on the face of the rock. The view from the top to the creek 
below is almost painful, and few can gaze down without becoming dizzy. 

There is a tradition of an English officer who, in 1762, attempted to scale the Bridge. He had 
visited the place with a party of friends, and notwithstanding their repeated expostulations and 
warnings he persisted in the venture. He divested himself of his coat and hat, and then, gayly 
bidding his comrades meet him on the top of the bridge, he began the ascent. By the aid of the 
bushes and the clefts in the rocks he succeeded in climbing to a ledge one hundred and eighty feet 
from the base. Here his courage failed him, for the rock above was fatally regular for nearly fifteen 
feet, and there were no bushes whose roots were imbedded in the stone with sufficient strength to 
support his weight. Terrified at his danger he began to descend ; but he had proceeded only a few 
feet when he lost his hold through dizziness, and was dashed to the bottom, in full view of his horror- 
stricken friends. 

Our illustration of the Bridge was taken in the spring of the year when the melting of the snow 
and the unusual rain-fall had given Cedar Creek a volume of water it does not at other times possess. 
As before stated, during the summer, or after a continuance of dry weather, the Creek is nearly dry. 





TRENTON HIGH FALLS, NEW YORK. 



HERE is no State in the Union that presents a greater variety of attractive scenery than New 


J- York. The Hudson, the Highlands, the Catskills and the Adirondacks are in the east and 
north-east; Onondaga, Cayuga, Oneida, Mahopac, Chatauqua, Seneca, Owasco, and numerous smaller 
lakes extend through the central and northern sections ; Erie and Ontario lie on the Canada boundary, 
and that famous natural curiosity, Niagara Falls, is in the north-west. It is, perhaps, owing to this 
abundance of noteworthy scenery that the Trenton High Falls in Oneida county are so little known 
and so much neglected, although there are two large and growing cities in the same county, Rome 
and Utica, and a great railroad passes within a few miles of the place. These Falls are second in 
interest only to the Falls of Niagara. They were known to the Indians by the name of Cayoharie, 
and are formed by the descent of a considerable stream called West Canada Creek, through a 
ravine of singular formation. Like all mountain streams, the creek is often swollen to a swift and 
muddy torrent by high rains and spring snows, and runs during the early months of the year over a 
succession of rocky ledges, falling from one to another to the depth of forty or fifty feet, the whole 
forming a continuous chain of picturesque cascades. The appearance of the creek has changed 
somewhat since its first discovery. The constant action of the water has worn through the strata 
that enclose it, and has materially widened the bed of the stream. Of course, the best time to see 
the falls is in the spring of the year, but unfortunately at that period they are least accessible. The 
city of Rome is, however, only fourteen miles distant, and the tourist can choose a fine day to make 
his visit and be back in town in the evening. The great difficulty lies in traversing the roads. The 
melted snow runs down from the hills in numberless rivulets, and the mixture of mud and slush 
underfoot interferes with the pleasure of exploring even the most romantic scenery. Those who 
desire to thoroughly enjoy the beauties of this picturesque spot should make their head-quarters 
at the hotel—a very good one—to be found near the Falls. 

Cascades of marvelous beauty are not a rarity in American scenery ; but it is believed that 
Trenton Gorge has not its counterpart on the continent, at least it has no rival in sublimity on this 
side of the Rocky Mountains. It is not a mere waterfall or series of waterfalls. It is a gigantic 
millrace running for three miles between walls of solid rock, Nature’s masonry, twice as high as 
Trinity steeple, and in many places almost as perpendicular. Through this gorge run the waters of 
West Canada Creek : now corkscrewing their way through a rocky path, water hewn ; now precipi¬ 
tating themselves by a series of cascades into an amphitheatre whose rugged sides of rock are 
clothed in leafy green ; now flowing in a rapid stream over a bed as smooth, and composed of stones 





i8 


TRENTON HIGH FALLS, NEW YORK . 


as regular and rectangular as those of a city sidewalk ; now pouring over a rocky dam so straight 
and formal that you instinctively look for a sawmill at its base; now leaping down a two-storied cas¬ 
cade in a series of falls whose wondrous variety of beauty is beyond the power of pen or pencil to 
describe; now darting over a bed of rough rocks which throw it into foam and eddies and waves 
that are like a miniature surf; now gathering all its volume into one concentrated column and 
plunging through a narrow gap, beating like a gigantic trip-hammer on the rocky bed beneath ; 
finally to hurry swirled and twisted and writhed into innumerable forms through a narrow defile, to 
issue at last in a deep and to the eye an unfathomable pool of treacherous calm at the very edge 
and mouth of the stony chasm. The gorge is to-day almost exactly what it was when the Indians 
hunted in these forests and fished in these pools. There is here and there a chain fastened into the 
rocks to help those of unsteady head or careless feet along the narrowest pathways in the rock. 
Once we mount a wooden staircase to get around the High Falls. For the rest we might easily 
imagine ourselves in a desolate wild. Civilization has done its utmost to ruin Niagara. It has only 
rendered Trenton Gorge accessible. 

Sherman Falls, one of the cascades forming Trenton Falls, furnishes an interesting instance of 
the action of water upon solid rock. Far back in distant ages, before even the Indians had dis¬ 
covered it, the water, hindered in its course by some obstacle, made here a detour and leaped across 
the chasm at right angles to its present course. It cut a large amphitheatre in the solid rock upon 
this side, along which the narrow pathway now runs, and leaping down struck the opposite bank 
with such prodigious force as to cut a great chasm in the rocks thirty-eight feet in depth, which 
remains to attest its power in times past. It has since cut a clearage in the edge of the precipice 
which before turned it from its straightforward course, and pours through this chasm in one huge 
pillar of amber water like a gigantic waterspout inverted. The thunder is heaviest here ; the walls 
rise highest; the blow upon blow of the great water column are most ponderous ; and here, right 
athwart the spray that rises in perpetual incense filling the amphitheatre, trembles and dances a 
rainbow, now in perfect span, now in evanescent fragments, the most fragile and the most exquisite 
thing in nature. How marvelously this rainbow, by its very contrast, intensifies the impression pro¬ 
duced by the thunder of the irresistible waters, and the massive strength of the impenetrable rocks, 
can hardly be described. Like all great artists, learners in her school, Nature delights in just such 
strong contrasts. 

At the point in the Falls where the greatest volume of water descends, the rocky walls on either 
side are much nearer each other than at other places, giving the fall at a distance the appearance of 
water rushing through a great flood-gate. The waters rush along with an impetuous and unnecessary 
haste that is thoroughly American—every drop is unmistakably native-born. The walls are almost 
perpendicular below the Falls, and in many places the sky is scarcely visible Jrom the banks of the 
creek. There is a ladder built from the base of the great cataract to the plateau above it, and 
tourists can climb up and view the falls at the spot where the first descent begins. The spectacle 
here witnessed is more than compensation for the exertion. Near the shore the water forms in 
whirls and eddies, perpetually changing its hues in the strong sunlight, while further out the torrent 
rushes over its inclining bed to the edge of the precipice, taking with it every now and then a huge 
tree that has been torn from its roots far up in the mountains and carrying it like an arrow over the fall. 
The colors on the trees, the rising mist, the foam here, the amber there of the water, tints of rain¬ 
bows that come and go upon the spray, and the song of the wild waters—complete a landscape that, 
for romance, has few equals. 

The other places of interest are the Alhambra Fall, the head of the ravine through which the 
Kanata flows, Boru’s Bridge Fall, and the singular formations in the rocky banks known as Rocky 
Heart and Jacob’s Well. The descriptions given by visitors to this spot, and the fact that it is on 
the direct route from Buffalo and Niagara, are helping to make it better known and more popular. 

Oneida county, in which the Falls are situated, is a prosperous and well-to-do section of the State. 
One of its chief industries is the cultivation of hops, and its fine grazing facilities give encouragement 
to the raising of cattle and horses. The Oneida Community owns a large section of land in the 
county, and visitors to the Falls may thus have an opportunity also of observing the ways of this 
peculiar social organization. 



PANORAMA OF TRENTON FALLS, 











































































































































































20 


SQUAM LAKE.—THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 

SOUAM LAKE. 


D ANIEL Webster said long ago that New Hampshire was a good State to emigrate from, but 
this does not change the fact that it is a very popular place to summer in, its mountains and 
lakes having thousands of visitors every year. Squam Lake is in a north-westerly direction from 
Lake Winnipiseogee, between Carroll and Grafton counties, and has an area of about thirty square 
miles. Its shores are very picturesque, and, in many places,, rocky and mountainous. Our illustra¬ 
tion will, perhaps, call to some of our readers, the memory of happy moments spent among the 
Hampshire hills, far away from the bustle of city life. 

A lake whose surroundings are wild and uncultivated is best seen in the autumn, and we quote 
from the work of an enthusiastic traveler a description of Squam Lake at that season of the year: 

“ The first severe frost had come, and the miraculous change had passed upon the leaves which 
is known only in America. The blood-red sugar maple, with a leaf brighter and more delicate than 
a Circassian lip, stood here and there in the forest like the sultan’s standard in a host—the solitary 
and far-seen aristocrat of the wilderness ; the birch, with its spirit-like and amber leaves, ghosts of 
the departed summer, turned out along the edges of the wood like a lining of the palest gold ; the 
broad sycamore and the fan-like catalpa flaunted their saffron foliage in the sun, spotted with gold 
like the wings of a lady-bird ; the kingly oak, with its summit shaken bare, still hid its majestic 
trunk in a drapery of sumptuous leaves, like a stricken monarch, gathering his robe of state about 
him to die royally in his purple; the tall poplar, with its minaret of silver leaves, stood blanched 
like a coward in the dying forest, burdening every breeze with its complainings ; the hickory paled 
through its enduring green ; the bright berries of the mountain ash, flushed with a more sanguine 
glory in the unobstructed sun ; the gaudy tulip-tree, the sybarite of vegetation, stripped of its 
golden cups, still drank the intoxicating light of noonday in leaves than which the lip of an Indian 
shell was never more delicately tinted ; the still deeper dyed vines of the lavish wilderness, perish¬ 
ing with the noble things whose summer they had shared.” 

This is only the forest—the background of the picture. In the foreground lies the lake, its 
waves glittering like sunlit steel, or changing into all the colors of the rainbow under the glow of the 
evening sun. Here and there are islands, varying much in size, some being no larger than a tea- 
table, while in appearance they are equally dissimilar, although all are covered by the most 
luxuriant vegetation. 

To summer visitors Squam Lake has no ordinary attractions. The White Mountains are not far 
away, and Lake Winnipiseogee, called by the Indians “ The Smile of God,” is also a pleasant point 
for a day’s jaunt. Boating, of course, is one of the first amusements. A morning sail on the beauti¬ 
ful lake is full of enjoyment. The distant mountains, with the ever-changeful forms of mist around 
their summits, the trees leaning over the banks of the lake, here and there a diminutive harbor, in 
which the water is so clear and transparent that the bottom, covered with white and yellow pebbles, 
can be^seen—all these combine to form a varied panorama. A storm on the lake is, however, a 
matter of more importance than would be supposed from its size. The wind blows a perfect hurri¬ 
cane, and the fog and clouds are so dark, that it is difficult to see a clear course ahead. Its 
proximity to the sea gives it the full force of the winds from the ocean. These are drawbacks, 
experienced fortunately only in unfavorable weather. 


THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 


HE White Mountain range consists of eleven peaks, viz. : Mounts Washington, Clay, Jefferson, 



A Adams, Madison, Webster, Jackson, Clinton, Pleasant, Franklin, and Monroe. Of these 
Mount Washington is the highest, having an elevation of 6,293 feet. The Indian name for these 
mountains was “ Agiocochook ” which signifies “the place of the Spirit of the Great Forest,” or, 


according to Judge Potter, “the place of the Storm Spirit.” They derive their English name from 
the fact that for ten months of the year their peaks are white with snow. Owing to the large num¬ 


ber of tourists who visit the White Mountains every summer, it has become profitable to cut new 
roads, and level and grade old ones, so that now the ascent of the mountains is attended only with 





SQUAM LAKE, NEW HAMPSHIRE. 





































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































22 


THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 


fatigue and, if perchance a shower should come on, a little discomfort. The principal point of inter¬ 
est to the visitor lies in the ascent of Mount Washington. There are several routes to the summit, 
but the most popular one is from the Glen. 

A drive of eight miles from the village of Gorham along the Peabody River will take the visitor 
to the Glen House, which stands on a plateau about 830 feet above the Gorham valley. The Glen 
House is on the lowest ridge of the hill that rises opposite to Mount Washington, which, as its name 
indicates, stands head and shoulders above the other summits—having no peer. Madison and 
Monroe come next on the left, and then Jefferson, who appears higher than he is. In a line with 
Mount Washington on the other side are Adams, Clay, &c. Jefferson’s head seems modeled after a 
European pattern. It runs up to a sharp point, and wants but accumulated masses of ice to be 
broken into Alpine angles. 

The distance from the base of the mountain at the Glen to its summit is eight miles, and a car¬ 
riage road runs to the very top of the mountain. This road was commenced in 1855 by a chartered 
corporation under the management of D. O. Macomber, and was finished as far as the Ledge, about 
four miles from its base, in 1856. The road was not completed until the summer of 1861. Its 
average grade is twelve feet in one hundred, and its steepest grade is sixteen and a half feet in a 
hundred. The bridle path ascends the mountain in a direct line, while the carriage road winds 
around the Ledge and up the side, making the distance nearly double. Between the base and the 
Ledge the road is cut mainly through the forest, and affords no views of mountain scenery, but after 
this portion of the journey has been passed it runs along the very edge of a deep ravine that divides 
Mount Washington from Mounts Clay and Jefferson, and the traveler for the rest of the way may 
enjoy the imposing scenery at its best. 

The path rises over a series of receding plateaus, each of which seems to be the summit as one 
looks up from below, and it is. on account of this feature that Mount Washington fails to show its 
real height until one is far enough away to obtain a full view of its whole outline. 

From Eastman’s work on the White Mountains we take an account of the tragic termination of 
three attempts to reach the summit before the present roads were built: “ During the last part of 
the ascent one will see the pile of stones that marks the spot where Miss Bourne, of Kennebunk, 
Me., died near midnight, in September 1855, and where her uncle and cousin kept sad watch until 
dawn. They started in the afternoon, without a guide, to walk to the summit. Night and fog over¬ 
took tnem, and the young lady perished in the chill and darkness among the rocks, but a few rods 
from the house they were in search of. Quite near, also, is the shelving rock, beneath which the 
remains of an elderly gentleman from Wilmington, Del., were found in July, 1857. He had attempted 
to ascend the mountain alone, one afternoon in August of the year before, and must have been over¬ 
taken by storm, cold and darkness, when near the summit. His watch and some bank-bills in his 
vest pocket were found uninjured; though most of the body, and even part of the skeleton, were 
gone. A little further below, and at the left of the descending path, the ledge is visible where Dr. 
Benjamin Ball, of Boston, passed two nights in the snow and sleet of an October storm, alone and 
without food or covering. He was rescued when nature was about sinking. His feet were frozen 
and he could not speak. How his life was preserved in such exposure is a marvel. It is equally 
remarkable that, though his feet were severely frozen, they were saved.” 

Arriving at the top of the mountain the mind recoils within itself through the impotence of its 
efforts to grasp the infinite and illimitable ideas suggested by the vastness of the scene. The sum¬ 
mit of Mount Washington is six thousand two hundred and ninety-three feet above the level of the 
sea, being the highest point in the United States east of the Mississippi, except some peaks among 
the Black Mountains in North Carolina, which overtop it by six or seven hundred feet. The 
summit is entirely bare of vegetation, a vast stone heap, rugged and wild, but too regularly shaped 
for picturesqueness or sublimity. There has recently been erected here a railroad depot. The 
view from the apex commands the full circle of the horizon, and Mount Washington appears as an 
island surrounded by a tumultuous ocean of blue hills. But the adjacent peaks, jagged and bare, 
divided by valleys of stupendous depth, are yet the most impressive features of the grand pano¬ 
rama. 

A horizon of nearly six hundred miles bounds the prospect. “ In the immediate neighborhood, 
but far below, lie on one side Mounts Clinton, Pleasant, Monroe, and Franklin ; on the other Jeffer¬ 
son, Adams, and Madison. On the east and west, openings are visible through which rivers, taking 
their rise in the mountains, wind their way along the valleys to the lowlands. Far in the distance, 



SILVER CASCADE, CRAWFORD’S NOTCH 






































































































24 


THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 


chains of hills and mountains, distinct in outline and beautiful in form, arise on all sides, and these 
are still overtopped by those beyond whose blue summits mingle with the sky, and bound the glori¬ 
ous picture. Far to the south, the silvery waters of Lake Winnipiseogee set, as it were, in a frame¬ 
work of hills, encounter the eye and relieve and contrast the sombre majesty of the mountains. On 

the west the Green 
Mountains of Ver¬ 
mont, and on the 
east the mountains 
of Maine skirt the 
horizon and seem 
to support the sky.’' 
The summit of 
Mt. Washington 
consists of about 
an acre and a half 
of irregular rock, 
containing scarce¬ 
ly a smooth spot. 
There were for¬ 
merly two hotels 
there — the Tip- 
Top House and 
the Summit House 
—but they have 
been consolidated. 

Those who desire 
to see all the di¬ 
versity of scenery 
which the White 
Mountains afford 
would do well to 
make, from this 
point, for Craw¬ 
ford’s Notch; in 
that respect fol¬ 
lowing the exam¬ 
ple of the writer, 
who, descending 
from the knob of 
Mount Washing¬ 
ton, came presently 
upon a dark pond 
fed by the melting 
snows and over¬ 
shadowed by bald 
and jagged crests 
of the mountain, 
presenting alto¬ 
gether one of the 
most striking pic¬ 
tures ever seen. No flower blooming on its bleak margin, no living thing rippling its icy bosom, it re¬ 
sembled a sullen, deep-set black eye staring eternally upward from its sunless hollow at the unap¬ 
proachable glories of the heaven above. The path for several miles led around and over this line of 

savage crests, in many places steep and dangerous. In time one reaches the line of forest growth_ 

at first appearing a mere thicket of stunted firs, and increasing in size with the descent. The charac¬ 
ter of the road also changed. The rugged pavements and steep stairways of loose and angular rocks 











































































































































































































































































THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 


25 



Mount Washington Railway. 


had given place to deep-washed gullies. 
The Notch is a narrow and romantic 
gorge, walled in by precipitous rocks and 
mountains of imposing height. Its en¬ 
trance resembles a gateway of Cyclopean 
masonry, affording scanty room for the 
rugged highway, and the passage of a brawling stream, 
one of the sources of the Saco River. The ride 
through this wild rift, halting and turning often to admire its savage 
rugged ness, forms one of the most agreeable reminiscences of 
our mountain trip. At the end of two miles the pass widens 
into a regular valley, and the scenery becomes more common¬ 
place. 

Silver Cascade, sometimes called the Second Flume, from 
the deep and narrow gorge through which the waters flow, is about 
three miles from the Glen. It is a water-chiseled chasm through 
which a bright stream toils with hoarse murmurings ; while from 
far above on the mountain, where rocks and fir-trees crown the 
misty heights, the Silver Cascade comes skipping down like a white-robed undine, hasting to 
plunge herself in the gulf below. Part of its waters come from Mount Washington through 
Tuckerman’s Ravine,, and the descent is about eighty feet. It flows down a series of rough, rocky 
steps which widen toward the bottom. 

The Glen Ellis Fall is near the road to North Conway and the Notch. Its descent is sixty feet. 
Other points of interest in the mountains are Tuckerman’s Ravine ; Willey Slide, named after the 
unfortunate Willey family, who were buried in a landslide on the night of October 25, 1826 ; the 
“ Profile,” and the Cascades. 

It is impossible to close this short account of Mount Washington without briefly referring to the 
triumph which engineering skill has achieved in the construction of the Mount Washington Railway. 
During the summer season, steam-cars run daily over the track, which passes up the west side of 
the mountain to the summit. The construction of this railroad is due to the enthusiasm and inven¬ 
tive genius of Mr. Sylvester Marsh, of Littleton, New Hampshire. At first it was difficult to con¬ 
vince mechanicians of the feasibility of the scheme, and little encouragement was afforded by 
capitalists until an engine was actually running over a portion of the route. Finally, the necessary 
funds having been subscribed, the railroad was finished in 1869. It starts from a point 2,668 feet above 
the sea, and about 3,600 below the summit. The average grade is 1,300 feet, the maximum 1,980 
feet, to the mile. There are nine curves on the line, varying from 497 to 945 feet radius. The track 
consists of three rails, the outer four feet seven 
and one-half inches apart, which sustain the 
principal weight of the rolling stock, and an 
inner cog-rail , four inches wide, into which the 
teeth of the driving-wheel of the engine play, 
and, as it revolves, the whole engine is made to 
move, resting on the outer rail. Practically, the 
operation is accomplished by one cog-wheel 
working into another. The atmospheric brakes 
reduce the possibility of accident to a minimum 
risk, and it is currently believed that the danger 
involved in traveling on this railroad is not greater 
than on an ordinary railroad. 

In 1870-71 an expedition, consisting of C. H. 

Hitchcock, State Geologist of New Hampshire, 

J. H. Huntington, in charge of the Observatory 
upon the mountain, S. A. Nelson, Observer, A. 

F. Clough, and H. A. Kimball, Photographers, 
and Theodore Smith, Observer and Telegrapher 
for the Signal Service, passed the winter on the 



The Depot and Summit House, Mount Washington. 


























26 


THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 


top of the mountain, connected with the outside world only by a telegraph wire. Before this date 
only two of the various attempts made to reach the summit in winter had proved successful. 

We have not space to dwell upon the various difficulties encountered in making the necessary 
preparations for wintering on the summit, many of which arose from the fact that the expedition was 
finally organized so late in the season, that before their arrangements were fully completed the trains 
had ceased to run. But, these matters having previously been attended to, an ascent was made on 
November 30, 1870. This ascent is so full of dramatic incident, that the reader will pardon us for 
reproducing it: 

“ The end of the first mile—carrying us up to within one half mile of the limit of wood-growth 
—found us in tolerable condition ; when a halt for breath and observations discovered to us an ap¬ 
proaching storm lying on the Green Mountains of Vermont. It would undoubtedly strike us, but 
we still hoped we might press on and reach the summit first. The thought of being overtaken by a 
furious storm on the wintry, shelterless cliffs of Mount Washington, with the night about to enshroud 
us, was fearfully impressive, and prompted us to our best endeavors. With all the effort we could 
well muster, we had only advanced a half mile more, carrying us fairly above the wooded region to 
the foot of ‘Jacob’s Ladder,’ when, the storm struck us. There were suddenly wrapped around us 
dense clouds of frozen vapor, driven so furiously into our faces by the raging winds as to threaten 
suffocation. The cheering repose of the elements but a moment before had now given place to what 
might well be felt as the power and hoarse rage of a thousand furies ; and the shroud of darkness 
that was in a moment thrown over us was nearly equal to that of the moonless night. Compelled to 
redoubled efforts to keep our feet and make proper advance, we struggled with the tempest, though 
with such odds against us that we were repeatedly slipping and getting painful bruises. Mr. Kim¬ 
ball finding himself too much exhausted to continue this struggle on the track, we all halted in brief 
consultation. It was suggested that we return to Waumbek Station, an old building a half mile 
below us, and there try to keep ourselves from freezing by brisk exercise. Mr. Clough emphatically 
vetoed this as a most dangerous and impracticable proposition, saying that our only hope consisted in 
pushing upward with all our might. 

“ Here we became separated, three of our party left the railroad track, and Mr. Kimball left 
behind his luggage in order to continue the ascent. By thus leaving the track we escaped liability 
to falls and bruises, but found ourselves often getting buried to our waists in snow, and forced to 
exert our utmost strength to drag ourselves out and advance. We repeatedly called to Mr. Bracy, 
who had kept on the track, as we supposed, but could get no answer. The roar of the tempest over¬ 
came our utmost vocal efforts ; and the cloud of frozen vapor, that lashed us so furiously as it hugged 
us in its chilling embrace, was so dense that no object could be seen at a distance of ten paces. 

“ Against such remorseless blasts no human being could keep integrity of muscle and remain 
erect. We could only go on together a little way and then throw ourselves down for a few moments, 
to recover breath and strength. We had many times repeated this, when Mr. Kimball became so 
utterly exhausted as to make it impossible to take another step. He called to the others to leave 
him and save themselves if possible. The noble and emphatic 'Never' uttered by the manly Clough, 
whose sturdy muscle was found ample to back his will, aroused him to another effort. 

“ The two stronger gentlemen, whose habits of life and superior physical powers gave hope of 
deliverance for themselves, were both immovable in the determination that our fate should be one, 
let that be what it must. 

“ The situation was one of most momentous peril, especially as to Mr. Kimball, whose exhaustion 
was now so extreme that he was wholly indifferent to the fate that seemed to impend ; only begging 
that he might be left to that sleep from whose embrace there was felt no power of resistance. Still 
there was forced a listless drag onward, mostly in the interests of his companions and in obedience 
to their potent wills. After this sort we struggled on, a few rods at a time, falling together, between 
each effort, to rest and gain new strength. At each halt Messrs. Clough and Cheney used their best 
endeavors by pounding and rubbing Mr. Kimball’s feet and limbs, and in various other ways endeav¬ 
ored to promote circulation and prevent freezing. 

“ The last saving device was supplied by a cord which we chanced to have. At one end of this 
was made a noose, which was placed in Mr. Kimball’s hand, while the other end was passed over the 
shoulder of Mr. Clough who tugged along in advance, while Mr. Cheney helped at his side. Most 
of the last mile was accomplished in this manner.” 

From the following description, a storm on Mount Washington in winter is no slight matter : 


LAKE GEORGE. 


2 7 


“ Sunday , February 5. From one to two a. m. the wind was higher than during the early part 
of the night. Some of the gusts must have been above 100, possibly no miles an hour. The tem¬ 
pest roared and thundered. It had precisely the sound of the ocean waves breaking on a rocky 
shore. And the building too had the motion of a ship scudding before a gale. At three a. m., the 
temperature had fallen to —59 0 , and the barometer stood at 22.508, and attached thermometer 62°. 
Barometer was lowest yesterday at eight a. m., when it was 22.508, and attached thermometer 32 0 . 
Now, seven a. m., the thermometer indicates —25 0 , and the wind has fallen to 70. * 55 The 

valleys are full of stratus clouds ; charged with frost as they are, occasionally sweeping over the 
summit, they completely cover one in a moment, hair, beard, and clothing ; when the face is exposed 
it feels like the touch of a hot iron. To breathe this frosty air is very unpleasant. A full inhalation 
induces a severe coughing fit. Our butter-tubs stand in the outer-room ; this morning we cut a 
piece of butter for breakfast, using a chisel and hammer !—it was like cutting into a stone. 

“Nine a. m. Talked over the events of the past night at the breakfast table, recalling many 
laughable incidents, and agreeing that we rather enjoyed the night’s experience than otherwise, that 
it was a sublime affair (having full confidence that the house would stand, the storm had no terrors 
for us) ; but all things considered, were unanimous in the opinion that once a fortnight was quite 
often enough for such grand displays of the storm-king’s power. Of all the nights since this party 
came here the last exceeds every one.” 


LAKE GEORGE. 


T HE number, beauty, and variety of the lakes and lakelets is one of the most striking features 
of American scenery ; and the Empire State holds within her boundaries a most Benjamin¬ 
like share of these pearls of nature. It is needless for her to boast of Cayuga, Pleasant, Piseco, 
Schroon, Paradox, Champlain, and numberless other delicious scenes, while with fair Horicon alone 
she may challenge all the earth. This bright gem—gem of purest water—is befittingly set in a sur¬ 
rounding of kindred beauties, shedding its effulgence upon the most attractive portion of the most 
picturesque State in the Union. It is as accessible in all directions as steamers, railways, and roads 
can make it. And what magnificent modes of access ! The Canadian, dropping down Lake Cham¬ 
plain, nods to the Adirondacks on one hand, and to the Green Mountains on the other, as he hastens 
to pay a morning call; while the New Yorker glides swiftly through the enchanted fastnesses of the 
Hudson, and peeps into the gay saloons of Saratoga, as he runs up for a few days’ pleasure-trip. And 
what cordial and hospitable greeting and entertainment they receive—moral and physical! What 
gracious smiles from the hostess, and what dinners and teas from the stewards of her hotels! 

The Indian, true to that dominant emotion of his heart—a pure and reverent love of Nature— 
always fervently worshiped at this shrine, and baptized it humbly—in sympathy with its own charac¬ 
ter and sentiment—Horicon, or the Silvery Waters ; he called it too Canideriout, or the Tail of the 
Lake, from its relative position to the proximate waters of Champlain. The French Catholics, 
equally obeying the specialties of their morale, christened it, in honor of their religious creed, Lake 
Sacrament; while the Anglo-Saxon, no less mindful of his highest and holiest love, made it do homage 
to his egotism, and named it after himself—Lake George ! To this hour, well-a-day ! the voices of 
poetry and of religion are drowned in the more clamorous cry of human pride and selfishness. 

Who can say what deeds of heroism and horror, of love and hate, the shores and depths of Hor 
icon may have witnessed in the forgotten ages of the past, when the red man alone was lord and 
master. What unwritten histories, rich and strange, may lie buried in its sealed waters. Certainly, 
since its story has found chroniclers, numberless events of classic and historic charm have clustered 
thick around it. The poet and the romancer have embalmed it in the quaint old rhyme and in win¬ 
some story. Brave armies lie under its sods, and its. ripples now break over the graves of once gay 
and gallant fleets. Not a few of the most daring and important events of our Colonial wars, and of 
our Revolutionary struggle, endear these haunts to the national heart. And it is here that the 
thrilling scenes of Cooper’s romantic novel “ The Last of the Mohicans ” are laid. 

Lake George lies at the head of a valley of the St. Lawrence. Extending southward through 
Vermont and New York it has a length of thirty-five miles, and an average breadth of between two 





28 


LAKE GEORGE. 


and three miles. It is in some parts very narrow, being not more than a mile wide, while its maxi¬ 
mum width is not more than four miles. It is noted for the singular transparency of its waters and 
the great number of islands it contains. It is in the bosom of high hills and surrounded by huge 
rocks and mountains, and is environed by forests which formerly were well-stocked with deer. The 
great number of visitors have, however, driven the game away. 

The charm of many of the islands and localities embraced in the view from Caldwell, is pleasantly 
heightened by associations of historic incident. Diamond Isle was once (who, now watching its 
peaceful aspect, would ever think it!) a depot for military stores and war-clad bands. Long Point, 
hard by, in 1757 formed with the shore a harbor for the bateaux of Montcalm. Yonder too are still 
found the ruins of forts, and other adjuncts of the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war. 
Fort William Henry, the most interesting of these relics, was built by the English during their colo¬ 
nial wars with the French, in 1755. The history of the construction of this fort contains so much 
that is of interest that we will be pardoned for making a brief recapitulation of it. 

In 1745, when the French and Indian war was beginning to be pushed with vigor, Lake George 
became a medium for the water transportation of troops ; but for a long time there was no fighting 
on its shores. In 1755, General William Johnson—a prominent character in the colonial history of 
New York—sent out a detachment of twelve hundred men under Colonel Williams to attack the 
French General Dieskau, who was stationed a few miles east of the lake with an army composed 
largely of Indians. The disciplined English soldiers were but little acquainted with the Indian 
method of warfare, and they soon found themselves in an ambuscade. Their commander was killed 
almost at the first fire, and after a short resistance, they retreated to the main body who were sta¬ 
tioned on the lake-shore. The triumphant French general followed, but meanwhile General Johnson 
had thrown up a breastwork of logs, which enabled his men to fight to more advantage. After a 
sharp battle of five hours the French were compelled to retreat. General Johnson then erected 
Fort William Henry on this spot—a fort which became one of the strongholds of the English during 
the remainder of the war. It was built of logs, filled in with sand, and mounted nineteen cannon 
and four or five mortars. When Gen. Montcalm led his forces against it, it had a garrison of five 
hundred men. After a six days’ resistance they were forced to surrender. They yielded on condi¬ 
tion that they should be allowed to march out with all the honors of war ; but when the fort was 
given up, Montcalm found it impossible to check the ferocity of his Indians, and the garrison was 
massacred in cold blood. On the spot where this tragedy occurred, there is to-day a large summer 
hotel; balls and merry-makings are frequent, and the air is often filled with music and laughter where 
once resounded the war-whoop of the Indian and the death-cries of his victims. 

It is no slight task to determine in which direction here to seek the picturesque—whether in the 
bosom of the Lake, on the variedly indented shores, or on the overlooking mountain tops. Every¬ 
where is abundant and perfect beauty. Our only regret is, as we offer our illustration of Lake George 
taken in the vicinity of Rogers’ Slide—an illustration which for picturesque beauty is not often sur¬ 
passed—that with our best seekings, we may still appear to the reader too much like the pedant in 
Hierocles, submitting a brick as a sample of the beauty of his house. 

Rogers’ Slide is a rocky height at one of the narrowest points of the lake. Its name grew out of 
an incident in the Indian war. A scout named Rogers, who had gained considerable renown for his 
daring and skill, was one day pursued by Indians, and fled to this spot. At the edge of the preci¬ 
pice he loosened his snow-shoes, and without changing their position, turned himself about in them 
and put them on again with the heels in front. He then ran to the southern brow of the rock, and 
descending through a gorge or ravine to the Lake sped away on the ice. The Indians reached the 
precipice and saw what seemed to be the tracks of two men who had apparently thrown themselves 
down the cliff in preference to being captured. On looking over the lake, however, they discovered 
Rogers fleeing across the ice, and at once their superstition suggested to them that a man who could 
have descended the cliff in safety must be under the protection of the Great Spirit, and should not, 
therefore, be harmed. From that time forward it was called “ Rogers’ Slide.” It is with regret that 
we are obliged to detract from the romance of this little episode by stating that it was subsequently 
established that Rogers was a notorious braggart. 

The attractions of Horicon will be more perfect when time shall effect the additional infusion of 
the picturesque, which will follow the enterprise, opulence, and taste of increasing population. Though 
now exhibiting all the elements of perfect beauty, she yet bides her time for complete development. 
She is now, to her sister waters of the Old World, as the untaught forest maiden is to the peerless 





ROGER’S SLIDE, LAKE GEORGE. 

















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































30 


THE MAMMOTH CAVE , KENTUCKY. 


queen of the boudoir and saloon. The refining and spiritualizing hand of art will soon enliven her 
quieter features, and soften her rougher characteristics. Ruined battlements and legendary shrines 
may never deck her bluffs and promontories in the mystic veil of romance, but happy cottages and 
smiling homes of health and content will climb her rude acclivities, and merry summer villas will peep 
gleefully out of the clustering shrubbery of her lovely isles, bringing to the heart more grateful 
thoughts and hopes than would the vaunted accessories of older spots, inasmuch as they will whisper 
of a yet higher civilization and of a nobler life. 


THE MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY. 



S UBTERRANEAN cham- 
bers played an important 
part in the religious rites of the 
ancients, having been devoted 
to priestly ceremonies not only 
among the barbarous nations 
who then inhabited Northern 
Europe, and among various sects 
in India, but also among the 
classic Greeks. Often of un¬ 
known or unexplored depths, 
they were well calculated to 
support the superstitions upon 
which the religions of those days 
were founded. 

In our day, caverns are inter¬ 
esting only for their natural 
features—their extent, location, 
and arrangement, and sometimes 
for the fantastic formations which 
they contain. Kentucky has 
more of these natural chambers 
than any other State in the 
Union. Many of them are but 
a few yards in depth, while others 
extend under the surface many 
hundreds of feet. During the 
late war, most of the nitre that 
was used was obtained from the 
caves of Kentucky, being found 
in abundance incrusted on their 
walls, from which it is easily 
detached with a pick. 

Mammoth Cave is the largest 
yet discovered. It is in Edmon¬ 
son county, near Green River, 
about 130 miles from Lexington 
in a south-westerly direction, on 
the road to Nashville, Tennessee. 

It is private property, and extends, it is supposed, ten miles underneath the earth, although owing 
to the numerous windings no accurate estimate can be made. It contains a great number of stalac¬ 
tites of large size and fantastic form, although neither so brilliant nor so beautiful as some which are 


The Entrance. 


j 





THE MAMMOTH CAVE , KENTUCKY. 


3i 



The Church. 

found elsewhere. Two hundred and twenty-six avenues run through it, forty-seven domes adorn it, 
and there are twenty-three pits in it and many streams. The aggregate length of the various corri¬ 
dors is estimated at several hundred miles; but this is, probably, an exaggeration. 

The scenery in the neighborhood of the cave presents no particular attractions. It lies amid ordi¬ 
nary woodland, its entrance being at the further end of a ravine known as Cave Hollow. The 
declivity leading to it is thirty or forty feet wide, and is formed of abrupt and broken steps. At the 
bottom rises an arch of rudely piled rocks, overgrown with a mass of tangled vegetation, through 
which there is a perpetual dropping of water. The cave itself is not, as might be imagined, one 
spacious hollow, but consists of a multitude of passages, none of which extend more than three 
miles in any one direction. About one hundred feet from the entrance the progress of the explorer 
is arrested by a door set in a rough stone wall, which crosses and completely blocks the entrance to 
the cave. 

Passing through this door, you enter a narrow passage, on the left of which is a wall, built by 
miners to prevent the loose stones thrown up during their work from falling, and gradually descend¬ 
ing a short distance along this passage, you arrive at the great vestibule of the cave. This is an 
oval-shaped hall, two hundred feet in length by one hundred and fifty feet in width, and fifty-five feet 
high, with a roof as flat and finished as if it were the work of skilled masons. Two passages open 
into it at its opposite extremities ; that on the right being known as Audubon Avenue, while the 
other is the beginning of the main gallery of the cave. The roof of this great chamber consists of 
a single rock one hundred feet thick, in which the eye can detect no break or interruption. Leaving 
the Rotunda, and passing down Audubon Avenue, the visitor arrives at a narrow passage winding 
among loose rocks, which gradually slopes to a descent of seventy or eighty feet, and leads into a 
spacious oval gallery called the “ Church.” This apartment is sixty-three feet high, and about one 
hundred feet in diameter. Eight or ten feet above a peculiar formation, which is called the “ Pulpit,” 
is what is known as the “ Organ Loft” and “ Choir.” Religious services have frequently been per¬ 
formed in this temple of nature. 

Near the “Church” are the ruins of the old nitre works, and some thirty feet higher up is a 
large cave, connected with which there is a narrow gallery, crossing the main cavern, and losing 
itself in an opening on the right known as “Gothic Avenue.” In this chamber there are to be seen a 




THE DEAD SEA, 



























THE MAMMOTH CAVE , KENTUCKY. 



33 

number of stalagmite pillars. The “ Devil’s Armchair” is a large stalagmite column, in the centre of 
which is a capacious and comfortable seat. 

Returning from “ Gothic Avenue” into the main cave the interest of the visitor increases at every 
step. At a small distance from the stairs by which he descends is an apartment called the “ Ball- 
Room,” owing to its singular adaptation for such assemblages. It contains an orchestra fifteen feet 
high, and equal to the accommodation of a hundred musicians, with a gallery extending back to the 
level of the high embankment near “ Gothic Avenue,” while the floor is level and smooth for several 
hundred feet. Further on is the “ Giant’s Coffin,” a large rock on the right. At this point the 
incrustations on the wall begin ; they are of the most fantastic and varied shapes. One hundred 
yards beyond the “ Coffin” the cave makes a long curve. Here, by means of a Bengal light, a vast 
amphitheatre may be illuminated, and a scene of weird beauty exposed to view. Opposite to this 
point is “ Sick-Room Cave,” in which are a row of cabins for the use of invalids, it being supposed 
that the pure and temperate air of the cave, ombined with good accommodations, might afford a 
cure for pulmonary consumption. 


The Bottomless Pit. 

Next in order is the “ Star Chamber,” which presents a most singular optical illusion. Looking 
up to the high ceiling the spectator seems to see the firmament itself, studded with stars ; and far off, 
a comet, with a long, bright tail. In going into the “ Solitary Chambers,” the visitor must crawl 
upon his hands and knees for fifteen or twenty feet. The “ Fairy Grotto” is distinguished for its 
great number of stalactites of various sizes. Lighted up by lamps this cave has the appearance of 
a grove of coral. 

Returning from the Grotto, you re-enter the main cavern, and come next to the “ Temple.” 
This is an immense vault, covering an area of two acres, roofed by a solid dome of rock one hun¬ 
dred and twenty feet high. In the middle of this chamber there is a large mound of rocks rising on 
one side nearly to the top, and known as the mountain. This dome, however, is eclipsed by the 
“ Mammoth Dome,” which is four hundred feet high, and is considered one of the most sublime 
spectacles in the cave. 

The “ River Hall ” is a chamber situated at the termination of “ Relief Hall,” through which the 







34 


MINOTS LEDGE LIGHT-HOUSE , MASSACHUSETTS. 


visitor must pass on approaching the “ Dead Sea ” and the “ Rivers.” The “ Bottomless Pit,” which 
is situated hereabouts, is one of the most interesting portions of the cave. It is a deep, dark pool 
in the rocky floor-whose depth is unknown. Attempts have been made to sound it, but probably 
owing to the lack of suitable apparatus, they have been unsuccessful. When the “ Pit ” is illumin¬ 
ated, its weird surroundings are strikingly brought out. The glare, driving back the shadows a short 
distance, the walls of rock, on which the flickering light battles with the darkness, and the mouth 
of the pit below so densely black as to apparently justify its name—all these are the constituents of 
a scene which strongly impresses the imagination. 

On the left of the cave is a steep precipice, over which you can look down upon the black waters 
of the Dead Sea eighty feet below. At the foot of the slope flows the river “ Styx,” and in that 
stream and the “ Echo River” are found the eyeless fish. Beyond the “ Echo River” there is a walk 
of four miles to Cleveland Avenue, a passage three miles long, seventy feet wide, and ten or fifteen 
feet high, beyond whose termination no explorers have passed. 

Guides are furnished at the cave, and the visitor dons a peculiar costume, that renders the walk¬ 
ing and climbing more comfortable, than otherwise they might be. The Mammoth Cave is owned 
by Dr. John Crogan, who purchased it for ten thousand dollars. 


MINOT’S LEDGE LIGHT-HOUSE, MASSA¬ 
CHUSETTS. 


T HE history of the light-house system in the United States is full of interest. The first act of 
Congress relating to it was passed on August 7, 1789, when provision was made that “all 
expenses which shall accrue from and after the 15 th day of August, 1789, in the necessary support, 
maintenance, and repairs of all light-houses, beacons, buoys, and public piers, erected, placed, or 
sunk before the passing of this act, at the entrance of or within any bay, inlet, harbor, or port of 
the United States, for rendering the navigation thereof easy and safe, shall be defrayed out of the 
Treasury of the United States.” For the sake of having a centralized authority, and to prevent any 
possible conflict of jurisdiction between the Federal and the State governments, the above act was 
re-enacted, March 26, 1790, conditionally that “none of the said expenses shall continue to be so 
defrayed by the United States after the expiration of one year from the day aforesaid, unless such 
light-houses, beacons, buoys, and public piers shall in the mean time be ceded to and vested in the 
United States by the State or States respectively in which the same lie, together with the lands and 
tenements thereunto belonging, and together with the jurisdiction of the samel From and after 
this time, Congress has assumed the control of these beneficent aids of navigation. 

Until 1852, our light-house system was the poorest in the world. It was under the charge of the 
Fifth Auditor, who had other duties to attend to, and was often ignorant of the first principles of 
light-house construction and maintenance. Complaints for this reason became so numerous that the 
Government organized a commission to go to Europe and inquire into the management of light¬ 
houses there. The result of this inquiry was the establishment of a Light-house Board, consisting 
of eight officers selected from the navy and the Engineering corps, to whom the entire control of all 
light-houses, light-ships, beacons and buoys was given. From the organization of this board the 
great improvement in our light-house system dates ; it may now be said to be unsurpassed. 

There are thirteen light-house districts on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, and each district has 
its appropriate officers. The present law requires that a candidate for the position of Keeper of a 
light-house must be over eighteen years old, and able to read and write. No woman is allowed the 
management of a light, unless by special permission of the department. There are six orders of 
light in our system. One is designed to give warning of the approach of land, and the rest are to 
mark headlands, points in rivers, bays and lakes. There are white and red lights, fixed, revolving, 
and flash lights ; there are also fixed white lights showing a flash at intervals, and, in some cases, 
two or three white lights to mark a headland. These differences are valuable in enabling approach¬ 
ing ships to distinguish between the various lights, and thus determine for a certainty as to what 
point they are approaching. Buoys, too, are set for the guidance of seamen. 





MINOT’S LEDGE LIGHT-HOUSE, MASSACHUSETTS. 












































































































MINOT'S LEDGE LIGHT-HOUSE , MASSACHUSETTS. 


Minot’s Ledge Light-house, the subject of our sketch, is situated on Minot’s Ledge, a rock off 
the coast of Cohasset, about eight miles east of south-east of the Boston light, extremely dangerous 
to vessels sailing toward Boston from an easterly direction. A strong north-east wind would be 
almost certain to cast them upon the rocks, but for the warning light. The dangers of this point 
had attracted the attention of ship-owners and mariners many years ago, and in 1847 an appropriation 
was made by Congress to erect a light-house there. It was determined to build an iron pile struc¬ 
ture sustaining at the top a keeper’s dwelling, and above that an illuminating apparatus. The struc¬ 
ture was to be in the shape of an octagon, each side at the base measuring nine-and-a-half feet, and 
the diameter of the circumscribing circle twenty-five feet. Iron piles ten inches in diameter, where 
they leave the rock, were to be inserted to a depth of five feet, at each of the angles of the octagon 
and at its centre. The light-house was finished according to this plan in the fall of 1849, but it 
stood only two years, being swept away with its keeper in the great storm of April, 1851. Money 
for rebuilding it was appropriated in the year following the disaster, and a new design was agreed 
upon by the light-house board, and approved by the Secretary of the Treasury in 1855. The base 
of the present structure is thirty feet in diameter. The stone-work is eighty-eight feet high, and for 
the lower forty is a solid piece of masonry. It has stood storms that were as severe as the one by 
which the former light-house was destroyed, and it is now believed to be impregnable. The cost of 
erecting it was a quarter of a million dollars. 

From an article on the subject of light-houses recently contributed to a magazine by the well- 
known writer, Mr. Charles Nordhoff, we quote the following interesting facts : “ The lenses used to 
enforce, concentrate, and direct the higher grades of lights cost various prices, up to eleven or twelve 
thousand dollars. The lamp of a first-order sea-coast light-house has four concentric wicks, the 
outer one being four inches in diameter. The oil is pumped up by clock-work or other machinery so 
as to feed these wicks constantly to their utmost, that they may give out as much light as possible. 
The Fresnel lens now comes in to save all the rays of light which have thus carefully been created, 
and to concentrate them and send them forth in that direction only in which they are required. 
Briefly described, the invention of Fresnel consists in surrounding the lamp by a series of prismatic 
rings of glass, each different from the others in its angles, but all cut mathematically to such angles 
that the rays which go above the proper plane and those which fall below shall be bent by refraction 
and reflection so as to become parallel with the lateral rays. Thus all the rays are saved and sent 
out in one sheet over the ocean. One of the most important duties of the keeper of a light is to see 
daily that the light and the lens are upon the exact and proper level. A deviation of only a fraction 
of an inch might throw the beam of light toward the sky or down toward the base of the light-tower, 
and thus make it useless to the mariner. 

“ There are at this time half a dozen electric lights in Europe, but their number is not increasing. 
They have proved extremely expensive in the maintenance, requiring the use of steam-engines for 
generating the electricity. It is said that this light, which is, no doubt, more powerful than any 
other in clear weather, does not penetrate fog so well as the oil light. 

“ Experience has shown our Light-house Board that the best light-keepers are old sailors and 
soldiers ; and it is its desire, we have been told, that the maimed of those who served in the war for 
the Union should, where they are physically and mentally competent, receive these places. The 
petty though important place of light-keeper has too often been made a political prize, and thus 
the service, which requires permanence, has been injured. In England the light-keeper holds his 
office for life or good behavior. He begins at a less important light, on a low salary, and is promoted 
for skill and attention to his duties. 

“ Fog-signals, many of which are required at different points on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, 
are of several kinds. Some are steam-whistles, the sound of which is made deeper -or louder by 
being sent through a trumpet ; but the most effective is probably the Siren. This ingenious ma¬ 
chine consists of a long trumpet and a steam-boiler. The sound is produced by the rapid revolution 
past each other of two flat disks pierced with a great number of small holes ; a jet of steam under 
111 gh pressure is projected against the disks, which revolve past each other more than a thousand 
times a minute ; as the rows of small holes in the two disks come opposite each other, the steam 
vehemently rushes through and makes the singular and piercing noise which a Siren gives out. One 
of these machines costs about $3,500 complete, with its trumpet, boiler, &c.” 

The present pay of light-house keepers varies according to the importance of the light and the 
responsibility put upon the keeper. The Congressional appropriation covers an average salary of 


NIAGARA FALLS. 


37 


six hundred dollars per annum. The keeper of Minot’s Ledge, on the Massachusetts coast, receives 
$1,000, while some keepers receive but $350. 

The cost of light-houses varies as much as the salaries of the keepers. Some light-houses cost 
ten thousand dollars ; Minot’s Ledge light cost two hundred and fifty thousand, the building of this 
structure being attended with great difficulty. General Alexander, who superintended the con¬ 
struction of the present tower, was able to get but thirty hours of work done the first year, and 
one hundred and fifty-seven hours the second. No part of the rock was ever uncovered for more 
than a few minutes at a time. 

On the Atlantic coast it is the aim of engineers to have the lights as high as is consistent with 
safety, while on the Pacific coast the high rocks and cliffs compel the erection of the light-houses 
almost too high for effective use. Point Lomo, at the entrance of San Diego bay, is nearly five 
hundred feet above the sea. As the Pacific coast is much more foggy than that of the Atlantic, 
the danger there is that the lights may be obscured by the fog. New light-houses are being con¬ 
stantly erected. At the last session of Congress an appropriation was made for the purpose of 
building forty new light-houses at points to be designated by the Light-house Board. 

The history of light-houses dates from a very early period, as their obvious necessity might lead 
us to expect. Beacons to aid mariners were, from remote antiquity, common on the shores of the 
Mediterranean, the Archipelago, the Bosphorus, and the Red Sea, and the famous Pharos of Alexan¬ 
dria—whence the French and Italian name of light-house is derived—was accounted one of the 
seven wonders of the world. The dimensions of this building are not satisfactorily known. Accord¬ 
ing to Josephus the light was visible about forty English miles. 


NIAGARA FALLS. 


N EARLY all visitors to Niagara experience a feeling of disappointment at first sight of it, and 
are inclined to pronounce the descriptions they have read of it exaggerated. Especially is 
this true when the first view is obtained from the bank of the river on the American side, for only 
from the Canadian shore, or from the foot-bridge that crosses the river, can the magnificence of the 
spectacle be properly appreciated. But from whatever point they may be observed, the grandeur of 
the Falls is more forcibly impressed upon the observer with every view he takes. 

The Niagara river is thirty-three miles long, and is the outlet of Lake Erie. It forms part of the 
boundary between the United States and Canada, and is the channel by which the waters of the 
four great lakes flow into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The rapids of the river are about a mile long, 
and begin sixteen miles from Lake Erie ; their current is very narrow, and the water flows swiftly 
over the rocks, constantly growing in velocity and force, until it dashes over the precipice at Niagara. 
At this point the river attains a width of 4,750 feet, one-fourth of which is occupied by Goat Island. 
This island divides the cataract into two falls, the American and the Canadian. The latter is known 
as “ Horseshoe Falls,” from its peculiar shape, and has twice the breadth of the American Fall. 

The Rapids are far from being the least interesting feature of Niagara. There is a violence and 
a power in their foaming career, which is seen in no other phenomenon of the same class. Standing 
on the bridge which connects Goat Island with the Main, and looking up towards Lake Erie, the 
leaping crests of the Rapids form the horizon, and it seems like a battle-charge of tempestuous 
waves, animated and infuriated, against the sky. No one who has not seen this spectacle of turbu¬ 
lent grandeur can conceive with what force the swift and overwhelming waters are flung upwards. 
The rocks, whose soaring points show above the surface, seem tormented with some supernatural 
agony, and fling off the wild and hurried waters, as if with the force of a giant’s arm. Nearer the 
plunge of the Fall, the Rapids become still more agitated; and it is almost impossible for the spec¬ 
tator to rid himself of the idea, that they are conscious of the abyss to which they are hurrying, and 
struggle back in the very extremity of horror. This propensity to invest Niagara with a soul and human 
feelings is a common effect upon the minds of visitors, in every part of its wonderful phenomena. 
The torture of the Rapids, the clinging curves with which they embrace the small rocky islands 
that live amid the surge, the sudden calmness at the brow of the cataract, and the infernal writhe 




NIAGARA FALLS. 


;8 


and whiteness with which they re-appear, powerless from the depths of the abyss, all seem, to 
the excited imagination of the gazer, like the natural effects of impending ruin, desperate resolution, 
and fearful agony, on the minds and frames of mortals. 

The waters sweep down the rapids with such velocity that as they shoot over the precipice they 
leap clear from the rocky wall, making a curve behind which the latter is distinctly visible. This 

space between the rock and the waters of the fall is 
much wider at the bottom, where they strike the 
river, for the stone there, being loose and shaky, has 
been hollowed out by their continuous action. On the 
Canadian side “ The Cave of the Winds ” has thus 
been formed behind the fall, and visitors, by passing 
over a rocky and dangerous path, can go beneath the 
Falls as far as Goat Island. 

There are two ways of making this trip from the 
Canadian side ; one is by steps which have been built 
down the face of the wall, and the other is from the 
tower. Both of these are private property, and their 
owners will furnish a guide and a suit of oil-cloth to 
those who wish to descend. The oil-cloth is absolutely 
necessary, for the spray is like heavy rain, and with¬ 
out such protection the visitor will become thoroughly 
drenched. The path that leads beneath the Falls 
is covered with ice far into summer, and is at all 
times both slippery and perilous. 

The Horseshoe Fall has the appearance of an im¬ 
mense cylinder turning over and over. Some of the 
many bazaars for the sale of Indian goods and souve¬ 
nirs have towers, and from these a fine view of the 
cataract may be obtained. Near the American side, 
Goat Island overhangs the precipice, and shows its 
rocky wall; and Prospect Point—a fine place to see 
the Falls at sunrise—hems in the river. 

In the short period during which observations of the 
Falls have been made by men who are more than 
passing travelers—a period which extends back no 
further than to the close of the last century—consider¬ 
able changes have been made in it by the fall of masses 
of rock. In 1818 large fragments became detached at 
the American fall, and the same thing took place at 
the Horseshoe Fall ten years later. Old residents of 
the neighborhood assert that the line of the Falls has 
in consequence receded fifty yards in forty years ; but 
as no exact measurements had been taken, this is mere 
conjecture. In 1842, Prof. James Hall, then State 
Geologist of New York, caused a careful survey to be 
taken, and made provision for obtaining the rate of 
recession hereafter. His published report contained 
a fac-simile of a view of the P'alls taken by Father 
Hennepin in 1678; in this and the accompanying 
description the cataract had a striking feature, which has since disappeared. This is a third fall 
from the Canadian side towards the east, across the main fall, caused by a projecting rock, which 
turned the parted current in this direction. To corroborate the truth of this description, Prof. Hall 
quotes that of Kalus, a Swedish naturalist, who visited the Falls in 1750, and published the results 
of his observations in the Gentleman's Magazine a year later. He speaks of a rock having fallen a 
few years previous to his visit, by which the three falls that had before existed were changed into 
two, and indicates in an accompanying sketch the spot where it formerly stood. This evidence is 













NIAGARA FALLS. 


39 


sufficiently reliable to prove that changes have been and are taking place in these Falls which in time 
may completely change their appearance and character. 

In the deep gorge 
below the Falls, the 
current, contracted in¬ 
to one-fourth its space, 
is borne in violent ed¬ 
dies and whirlpools 
along its inclined bed 
toward Lake Ontario. 

Notwithstanding the 
apparent danger, the 
river is here crossed 
by small boats, and a 
little steamer takes 
passengers nearly to 
the foot of the cata¬ 
ract. 

On each side of the 
river below the Falls 
there rises an almost 
perpendicular wall,and 
the upper part of the 
stream can be reached 
only by means of stair¬ 
ways that have been 
constructed at various 
points along the banks 
below. Within two 
miles of the Falls is 
the railway suspension- 
bridge, built by Mr. 

Roebling in 1855. It 
is thrown across the 
gorge at a height of 
two hundred and fifty- 
eight feet above the 
water, and is supported 
on each bank by tow¬ 
ers of solid rock, whose 
centres are eight hun¬ 
dred feet apart. 

Twenty-eight feet 
below the railway track 
there is a carriage and 
foot-road for pedes¬ 
trians and vehicles. 

Besides this, there are 
two other bridges near 
Niagara, the new sus¬ 
pension-bridge just be¬ 
low the Falls, and the 
bridge to Goat Island. 

The descent be¬ 
neath the American Fall should be made from Goat Island. Prof. Tyndall at his visit ventured, 
with his guide, as far under the Fall as it was possible to go. Connected with Goat Island by 



On the Rocks below the American Falls. 




















AND AMERICAN FALLS. 














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE EAST RIVER SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 


4i 


a foot-bridge is Lunar Island. A fine view of the Falls may be obtained from either, the Canada 
Falls being on one side, and the American on the other. There is a ferry which will take 
the visitor across the river for a quarter of a dollar, and as it ventures quite near the Falls, he can 
here obtain a good view of the immense volume of water which pours down into the gorge, a distance 
of one hundred and fifty feet. The gorge itself bears striking indications of having been cut by the 
water, and scientific investigation has established this to be the true theory. 

The sound of the Fall varies greatly with the wind and the condition of the atmosphere. Ordi¬ 
narily it can not be heard more than a quarter of a mile away, while on other occasions, its roar can 
be distinguished as far as Lake Ontario and across its waters to Toronto, forty-five miles distant. 
Many of the early visitors to the Falls have recorded that they heard the sound of the waters, 
twenty-five, thirty, and thirty-five miles away. Close by, it is like a monotonous rumbling not un¬ 
like that made by an immense saw-mill, but much deeper and fuller. 

Below the Falls the Niagara river flows swiftly through its walled banks for three miles. It then 
turns towards the Canadian side, and rushing into a depression in the steep cliff, emerges from it 
almost at a right angle. This place is known as the whirlpool, and presents the appearance of having 
been hollowed out by a violent eddy. The rive - then flows on over an inclined bed until it reaches 
Lake Ontario. In its short passage of thirty-three miles there is a total fall of 334 feet. 

It is a theory of some scientific men that at one time the drainage of the Lakes was through the 
various western rivers to the Gulf of Mexico. It is believed that this was changed by a great tidal 
wave, and that the Erie bank was broken down, and a channel excavated whose bed was lower than 
the surface of the lake ; and that the water rushing out became the Niagara river. 


THE EAST RIVER SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 


N EVER was a more important engineering work undertaken, nor one which, notwithstanding 
its immense cost, is more likely to be prolific of rich results by the increased value given to 
real estate in all parts, and particularly the outskirts, of Brooklyn, than the construction of the 
bridge across the East River. Geographically the greater portion of the city of Brooklyn is nearer 
the business centre of New York than any part of the latter city above Fourteenth Street, and were 
it not for the isolation caused by the necessity of twice daily going through le mauvais quart dheure 
consumed in crossing the East River in the crowded ferry-boats, there is no doubt but that the 
growth of “ The City of Churches ” would have been even more rapid and extraordinary than that 
which has actually taken place. 

The act to incorporate the New York Bridge Co., for the purpose of building and maintaining a 
bridge across the East river between New York and Brooklyn, was passed by the Legislature of 
New York on the 1st of April, 1867, and shortly after this date the work on the structure began. 
The capital stock of the company was placed at five millions of dollars, to be divided up into shares 
of one hundred dollars each. By a clause in the charter the corporations of the cities of New York 
and Brooklyn are empowered to take possession of the bridge and its appurtenances at any time on 
payment to the bridge corporation of its cost and thirty-three and one-third per cent additional; 
but if advantage be taken of this proviso, the bridge is to be made free to travelers and vehicles. 
It was further enacted, that no pier should be constructed in the river beyond the pier lines laid 
down in the Act of authorization, and that the bridge should be built at an elevation of not less 
than one hundred and thirty feet above the river at high tide, thus leaving the navigation of the East 
river unobstructed. It begins at or near the junction of Main and Fulton Streets, in the city of 
Brooklyn, and will cross the river as directly as possible to some point at or below Chatham Square, 
not south of the junction of Nassau and Chatham Streets, in the city of New York. In addition to 
the private subscriptions toward the capital stock, New York city is to pay five hundred thousand 
dollars in each of the years 1874 and 1875, and the city of Brooklyn the sum of one million dollars 
during the same time. 

The work of construction was carried on under the supervision of the late John A. Roebling, the 
well-known engineer and architect of the Cincinnati Suspension-Bridge, up to the time of his decease. 



42 


THE EAST RIVER SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 


This onerous position was then transferred to his son, Mr. W. A. Roebling, and at this writing is still 
held by him. The plans and specifications adopted at the inception of the enterprise anticipated 
many of the leading features which have since contributed to the success of the great bridge at St. 
Louis. To cross a river 1,600 feet in width with a single span had, up to this time, been thought 
beyond the limits of engineering skill. But the difficulties in this case were much enhanced by 
the fact that the towers to support the immense structure necessary for this purpose had to be 
constructed under circumstances that rendered the usual modes of sinking piers impracticable. 
It was, therefore, determined to employ the method of working by compressed air. Caissons were 
made having the horizontal dimensions of the two piers, that on the New York side being 102 feet 
by 172. Each caisson was, in effect, a wooden box turned bottom upward, the interior space being 
nine feet high. The roof of the New York caisson (bottom of the box) was twenty-two feet thick, 
of solid timber bolted together, supported by frames running from side to side. These frames, 
together with the edges of the box, and the upward pressure of the condensed air within the cais¬ 
son, were to sustain the vast superincumbent weight. The area of the structure was about 17,500 
square feet. 

The caissons having been built on ways, were launched after the manner of a ship, and towed to 
the points where the piers were to be located. Courses of granite blocks were then laid upon the top 
of the caisson, by which it was sunk to the bed of the river. Air was then forced into the chambers 
from the shore until the water in the interior space was entirely displaced, the engines working night 
and day to maintain the pressure. The workmen obtained access to the chamber by means of two 
shafts extending above the surface of the water. At the bottom of each shaft were two air-locks, 
simply ante-chambers constructed of iron, into which the men entered from the shafts, and, closing 
an air-tight door behind them, admitted the compressed air from the caisson by means of a cock. 
When the pressure in the last ante-chamber was equal to that in the caisson, a communicating door 
was opened, and the men passed into the chamber below. In going out this process was reversed, 
the compressed air in the lock being allowed to blow off through a cock into the open shaft. Great 
care has to be taken in regulating the compression of-the air, as work in the caisson is attended with 
considerable danger. Two men have already died, and a score or more have been prostrated, owing 
to its injurious effects. 

To secure proper foundations for the two great towers was the principal engineering problem to 
be overcome, and now that these have been built and the towers erected on them, the bridge scheme 
may be said to stand on a firm footing and its construction almost regarded as an accomplished fact. 
The caisson on the Brooklyn side of the river was sunk into its place during the year 1871. Up to 
1872 the borings for foundations on the New York side had been confined to a small area covered by 
an old pier, owing to the fact that the adjacent ferry slips could not be immediately vacated. These 
were evacuated by the lessees at so late a date, that experiments could only be made with four bore¬ 
holes before the caisson was ready to be sunk. 

The bore-holes developed the fact that there was an extreme difference of twelve feet in the level 
of the bed rock, the hole of the least depth touching hard-pan at a depth of eighty feet below high 
water, and the deepest at ninety-two feet. The strata consisted in the main of a black mud deposit 
of twelve feet, followed by a layer of coarse sand of six feet in depth, which overlaid a gravel bed 
of the same thickness. Beneath the gravel was a very heavy deposit of quicksand of a depth vary¬ 
ing from fifteen to twenty feet, and abounding with boulders in its lower portion. The quicksand 
extended usually to within a few feet of the rock, and, in some instances, to the rock itself. But the 
immediate rock surface was covered with a compact layer of material through which it was impos¬ 
sible to drive a six-inch pipe without shattering it. To drive the pipe only one inch required thirty 
blows of a five hundred pound hammer, falling from a height of twenty feet. When the sinking of 
the caisson commenced, it was not determined by the engineers whether to go to rock or to remain 
above it. Further investigation into the character of the river bed convinced them that no single 
plan of operation would be adequate to remove all the material that would have to be displaced. 
The immediate river bed consisted of logs and loose dock stones followed by a sticky black clay. 
These materials could be most conveniently displaced by dredging. The river sand, and the firm 
gravel underneath it, could be more easily removed through pipes, either by means of pumps or by 
the air-pressure direct. The coarser gravel would go to water shafts, while the fine quicksand could 
be blown out through the pipes, until the preponderance of the boulders and small rounded stones 
compelled a return to the water shafts. It was at first determined to use the dredge for this latter 



SUSPENSION BRIDGE CONNECTING NEW YORK WITH BROOKLYN 















































































































































































































44 


DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI PI PEP. 


purpose, but it was found by experience that the dredge had not sufficient capacity to remove stones 
imbedded in quicksand. After much tedious investigation a satisfactory foundation was reached 
in May, 1872. 

The probable cost of the bridge has been estimated at $13,045,065.00. From this amount, how¬ 
ever, a large sum must be deducted for land which will lie under the bridge when completed, and be 
capable of utilization. It is expected that the leases of these properties will reimburse the Bridge 
Company $1,644,350.00. 

The original plans have been considerably modified and altered. Since the first estimates were 
made, it has been found necessary to increase the width from eighty to eighty-five feet. Two out of 
the three sidewalks that were contemplated have been given up, and two additional horse-car tracks 
substituted. This change involved an increase of seven per cent in the cost of the entire bridge, 
including superstructures, tower foundations and anchorages. The United States Government 
directed there should be an additional elevation of five feet, an order which necessitated a change in 
the trusses and some of the masonry. 

When the cities of New York and Brooklyn take charge of the management of the bridge, the 
Board of Directors will consist of twenty members. Each city is to have the nomination of eight 
members, the right of appointment being vested in the Mayor and Comptroller, and the last-named 
gentlemen are to hold similar positions by virtue of their office. 

There is a strong inclination on the part of New York to throw off the burden it has assumed in 
this matter. It has been freely argued that the bridge will work to the detriment of the metropolis 
by drawing off a large share of its population ; but the city is legally bound to fulfil its agreement, 
and although it may succeed in delaying the opening of the bridge, it will ultimately be compelled 
to pay its grant. When completed the bridge will be the largest of its kind in the world. Work on 
it is rapidly progressing ; but although the act of incorporation demanded it should be opened for 
travel during 1870, it will not be finished for three or four years to come. The tower on the Brook¬ 
lyn side has been carried to a height of one hundred and sixty-two feet, and the tower on the New 
York shore is also attaining lofty proportions. The Brooklyn tower, at the springing line of the 
arches, will be two hundred feet high, and the New York tower will require an elevation of one hun¬ 
dred and twenty feet to bring it to the level of the roadways. 

Our picture of the bridge is taken from the Brooklyn side. The building near it is the office of 
the Fulton Ferry Co., whose Brooklyn terminus adjoins the office of the New York Bridge Co. 


DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 

T HE history of the Mississippi is in some respects sufficiently interesting. The expedition of 
De Soto, by whom it was discovered, was one of the most unfortunate of the many that were 
set on foot to search for riches in the wilds of the New World; and the subsequent struggle for the 
right to navigate the river fills an attractive page in the history of America. Although De Soto was 
the first white man who gazed upon the Mississippi, the credit of exploring it belongs to Marquette, 
a Catholic priest, and to Joliet, the Canadian trader. These men descended the Wisconsin river to 
the Mississippi, and paddled down the latter in light canvas a distance of eleven hundred miles. By 
virtue of their discoveries France claimed possession of the whole of the Mississippi Valley, and 
that region was subsequently called Louisiana, after the king who then reigned. It remained a 
French province until 1762, when it was ceded to Spain, and continued the property of that power 
until the year 1800, when it was ceded back to France. 

During the time that Louisiana was under the dominion of Spain, frequent disputes arose between 
the United States and the Spanish authorities respecting the right to navigate the Mississippi, which 
at that time was our western boundary. On two -occasions these disputes very nearly provoked a war, 
while at another time the trouble had taken such a form that the State of Kentucky, having obtained 
a promise of recognition from Spain and of permission to use the Mississippi for commercial pur¬ 
poses, was on the point of seceding from the Union and of declaring itself a separate sovereignty. 
After France had regained possession of Louisiana, the United States Government instructed Mr. 






DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI PIPED. 45 

Livingstone, then our minister at Paris, to begin negotiations for the purchase of New Orleans. 
Napoleon was at that time First Consul of France, and it was one of his favorite projects to colonize 
Louisiana, and thus counterbalance the influence of the English colonies in the East; but before his 
plans had matured, a war arose between England and France. Mr. Livingstone, whose previous 
negotiations had proved futile, saw his opportunity and again pressed his offer for the purchase of 
New Orleans, calling attention to a proposition in the London papers, to send 50,000 men to take 
that fort. Napoleon, fearing that such a step might be taken, sold our Government all the terri¬ 
tory between New Orleans and Oregon for $15,000,000. The cession was made in April, 1803. 

Only two generations have passed away since that time, and what a marvelous change has come 
over the ceded territory. From Minnesota to the Gulf the bank of the great river is covered with 
cities, factories and plantations, and the wilderness that once extended from its western bank to the 
Pacific coast, is built up into powerful and flourishing communities. 

The Mississippi takes its rise in Minnesota, 3,160 miles from the Gulf of Mexico, and 1,680 feet 
above the level of the ocean, lat. 47 0 N., long. 95 0 54' W. A little pool fed by the neighboring hills 
discharges a little rivulet, scarcely a span in breadth, and meandering over sand and pebbles, and 
blending with it here and there a kindred rivulet, it ripples on, forming a number of basins, until it 
subsides at last into Itaska Lake. Issuing from the lake it first flows northward through several 
small lakes, and then in various directions, forming Cass Lake, Lake Winnipeg, and a number of 
other bodies of water. Finally, directing its course southward, it begins to show promise of becom¬ 
ing the mighty river that, at its maturity, commands the admiration of mankind. 

Large steamboats ascend the river from New Orleans to St. Paul, and indeed as far as Fort 
Snelling, just below the Falls of St. Anthony, and the river is navigable to small steamers for nearly 
two hundred miles above the Falls. The country beyond the Great Falls, of surpassing beauty and 
fertility, has within the last twenty years been added to civilization by the great tide of German immi¬ 
gration, which has steadily flowed in that direction; and there is no doubt but that this country, with 
its natural advantages and the industry of its population, possesses all the elements of a wealthy 
and powerful commonwealth. In 1848, on the site of the present city of St. Paul, there stood a few 
log huts ; and across the river the Indian roamed in his wildness and freedom on his own soil. With 
the development of the country of which it is the capital, has arisen the city of St. Paul, having a 
population of over twenty thousand, with handsome public buildings, stores and factories. Above 
St. Paul are the magnificent P'alls of St. Anthony. Here may be seen the sublime spectacle 


The Falls of St. Anthony. 









46 


DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 



Down the Mississippi. 


of the whole volume of the waters of the Mississippi rushing and foaming along a bed of huge roi_ks, 
and falling at one part of the cataract, nearly twenty feet perpendicularly. The tumultuous rapids 
above and below the Falls, the piles of rock, the swift current and the spray, produce a coup cTceil, at 
once beautiful and imposing. The river is here about six hundred yards in width, and in its descent 
is divided by Cataract Island. A dam having been constructed from this point to the eastern shore, 
almost the whole volume of water now rushes through the western channel. On the east side of the 
cataract is the city of St. Anthony, which, started in 1849, has steadily increased in prosperity, and 
is now connected, by a suspension bridge, with the city of Minneapolis on the western side. 

The Mississippi and its affluents are noted the world over for their steamboats. These are some¬ 
times three hundred feet long, and have three decks. The lower one is for freight, the middle for 
freight and passengers, and the third (called the “ Hurricane deck”) contains the wheel-house and 
the sleeping accommodations of the cabin employees. The grand cabin is on the second deck, and 
extends over the whole of the boat, with the exception of a small space at the bows. It is'gorgeously 
furnished, and is finished in white and gold. The passengers on board are good evidence of the 
cosmopolitan nature of our population. Immigrants from every country in Europe throng the deck, 
and in the cabin are seen a strange commingling of the various types of our social life. 

Embarking on board of one of these boats at St. Paul to descend the river, we steam away until 
we reach Lake Pepin. Everybody knows that Lake Pepin is caused by an expansion of the Missis¬ 
sippi River, which gives it for a distance of twenty-five miles all the appearance of a lake. Its 
breadth here averages three miles. There are no islands in Lake Pepin, but all along its shores are 
high bluffs of picturesque forms, crowned with shrubbery. High above all the rest looms the bare 
front of the “ Maiden’s Rock,” grand in nature, and interesting in its romantic associations. It has 
a sad story to tell to each passer-by ; and as each passer-by always repeats it, we will not be an 
exception. 

























DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 


47 


Winona, a beautiful girl of Wapasha’s tribe, loved a young hunter, and promised to become his 
bride. Her parents, like too many in Christian lands, were ambitious, and promised her to a distin¬ 
guished young warrior, who had smote manfully the hostile Chippewas. The maiden refused the 
hand of the brave, and clung to the fortunes of the hunter, who had been driven to the wilderness 
by menaces of death. The indignant father declared his determination to wed her to the warrior 
that very day. The family were encamped upon Lake Pepin, in the shadow of the great rock. 
Starting like a frightened fawn at the cruel announcement, she swiftly climbed to the summit of the 
cliff, and there, with bitter words, reproached her friends for their cruelty to the hunter and her own 
heart. She then commenced singing her dirge. The relenting parents, seeing the peril of their child, 
besought her to come down, and take her hunter-lover for a husband. But the maiden too well knew 
the treachery that was hidden in their promises, and when her dirge was ended, she leaped from the 
lofty pinnacle, and fell among the rocks and shrubbery at its base, a martyr to true affection. 

A notable feature of the Mississippi and of its tributaries is the raft. Rafts are masses of float¬ 
ing timber which find a ready sale at the numerous saw-mills in the vicinity of New Orleans. The 
flat-boat (sometimes called “broadhorn”) is built of plank, and is sometimes a hundred feet long, 
and thirty broad. It is rectangular, and sometimes roofed over, and is used to carry the produce of 
the farmers to the large cities along the river banks. Occasionally a lumberman takes his family 
with him on board his raft, and it is to be hoped that these civilizing influences will, in the course 
of time, as in the case of the boatmen on the Erie Canal, do something toward ameliorating the 
manners of these rude pioneers. 

Among other points of interest, mention must be made of Trempileau Island, a rocky height 
which rises to an altitude of five hundred and sixty feet. The romantic beauty and picturesqueness 
of this island amply justifies the poetic name bestowed upon it by the French, who called it “Mont 
qui trempe a I'eati' (Mountain which dips in the water). Below this point is the busy city of La 
Crosse. Here the Valley of the Mississippi increases in width and the hills are lost in the distance. 
In this part of the river are a great number of small islands which add greatly to the romantic 
beauty of the scene. Along the shore on each side are scattered towns more or less interested in 
the transportation of cereals ; but this business is, each succeeding year, becoming in a greater 
degree monopolized by Dubuque. After a junction with the Wisconsin river we approach Dubuque, 
the largest commercial city of Iowa. Pursuing our course we at last arrive at the famous Rock 



The Raft. 











































DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 



Island, three miles long, 
and having an area of a 
thousand acres. Upon 
this island government 
has erected arsenals and 
formidable fortifications. 
On the east side of the 
river in Illinois is the city 
of Rock Island, on the 
west side, in Iowa, the 
city of Davenport. The 
rapids which here extend 
for a distance of fifteen 
miles, interfere greatly 
with navigation, and 
make it very difficult to 
ascend the river with 
heavily - laden freight- 
boats. Steam-boat men 
complain bitterly of the 
railroad draw - bridges 
which connect the Illi¬ 
nois and Iowa shores 
with Rock Island, and it 
must in fairness be con¬ 
ceded, bearing in mind 
the natural obstacles 
that they have to over¬ 
come at this point, that 
this additional impedi¬ 
ment presses rather hard¬ 
ly on them. 

Between Rock Island 
and St. Louis there is lit¬ 
tle of interest. But what 
a spectacle is unfolded to 
our view as we approach 
the city which is pre¬ 
eminently the “ Queen of 
the Mississippi.” “ The 
town seems as old as 
London. The smoke 
from the Illinois coal has 
tinged the walls a vener¬ 
able brown, and the 
grouping of buildings is 
as picturesque and varied 
as that of a continental 
city. From the water 
side, on ridge after ridge, 
rise acres of solidly built 
houses, vast manufacto¬ 
ries, magazines of com¬ 
merce, long avenues bor¬ 
dered with splendid resi¬ 
dences ; a labyrinth of 
railways bewilders the 





























































































































































































































































DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI PIPED. 


49 


eye; and the clang of machinery and the whirl of a myriad wagon-wheels rise to the ear. The 
levee is thronged with busy and uncouth laborers ; dozens of white steamers are shrieking their 
notes of arrival and departure; the ferries are choked with traffic ; a gigantic and grotesque scram¬ 
ble for the almost limitless West beyond is spread out before the vision.” 

The first habitations on the site of the present city were erected in 1764, by Laclede Liguest, 
who, the previous year, had started from the French colony of New Orleans to explore the turbid 
waters of the Missouri. It does not appear that his expedition was very successful, for he speedily 
returned from the confluence of the two rivers to St. Louis, the new outpost named after Louis XV., 
the reigning king of France. Subsequently the whole of the vast territory known as Louisiana was 
ceded by France to Spain. Notwithstanding the heart-burnings which the occupation of a French 
city by Spanish soldiers caused, a fusion soon took place, and both parties agreed in heartily hating 
the English. After many vicissitudes the whole settlement, being a part of what was then known 
as Louisiana, was, in 1804, annexed to the United States. “Since the late war,” says a recent 
writer, “ the town has leaped into a new life, it has doubled its population, its manufactures and its 
ambition, until it stands so fully abreast of its wonderful neighbor, Chicago, that the traditional 
acerbity of the reciprocal criticism for which both cities have so long been famous is latterly much 
enhanced. The city, which now stretches twelve miles along the ridges, branching from the water¬ 
shed between the Missouri, the Maramec and the Mississippi rivers, flanked by rolling prairies richly 
studded with groves and vineyards ; which has many railroad lines pointed to its central depots, and 
a mile and a half of steamboats at its levee, a thousand miles from the sea; whose population has 
increased from 8,000, in 1835, to 450,000, in 1873 ; which has a banking capital of nineteen millions ; 
which receives hundreds of thousands of tons of iron ore monthly, has bridged the Father of Waters, 
and talks of controlling the cotton trade of Arkansas and Texas,—is but little like the St. Louis of 
the days when Col. Stoddard had his headquarters in a rude cottage, and the United States, in his 
person, had just adopted the infant city.” 

The bridge, of which we furnish an illustration, will have a vast influence on the fortunes of the 
city. Work was begun on it in January, 1868. The stonework was finished last December, and the 
superstructure completed in May, 1874. The caisson-work is said to be a marvel of engineering 
skill, and laid even deeper than that of the Brooklyn Bridge. The eastern abutment rests on a solid 
foundation 110.6 feet below the surface. The masonry measures 103,000 cubic yards—39,000 yards 
more than the famous structure over Menai Straits, in North Wales, England. The centre span is 
520 feet clear of the piers, and the bridge proper is 1,627 feet long. If accommodates two double 
railway tracks, foot-walks, street-railway tracks, and a track for ordinary vehicles. The entire cost 
of the structure was about $11,000,000. It was opened on 4 he 4th of July, 1874, with appropriate 
ceremonies, amid a grand display of fireworks and oratory. 

The river is the principal highway to all the cities along its banks, and whenever it is closed 
owing to low water or ice, there is an immediate and severe depression in business. All varieties of 
boats are seen on the Mississippi. The fine large steamboats, the strong flat-bottomed packets, the 
cruisers to the Upper Mississippi, and the Missouri barges laden with iron, lead, coal and copper, the 
huge grain transports, and rafts of every size. When the ice-gorge comes, the boatmen on the 
Upper Mississippi suffer severely. Property to the value of hundreds of thousands of dollars is 
often lost at this time. 

The velocity of the current increases below St. Louis, the river having, above the city, received 
the vast volume of the Missouri, but the scenery is attended with a degree of sameness that leaves 
little room for description. Probably at no portion of the three thousand miles of its course is the 
Mississippi more uninteresting than in the vicinity of Cairo, where the waters of the Ohio River join 
it. Not by any means a desirable place of abode is Cairo, and the severe description given of 
it in Dickens’ American Notes is not unmerited. 

“ At length we arrived at a spot so much more desolate than any we had yet beheld, that the 
forlornest places we had passed were, in comparison with it, full of interest. At the junction of the 
two rivers, on ground so flat and low and marshy that at certain seasons of the year it is inundated 
to the house-tops, lies a breeding-place of fever, ague, and death. A dismal swamp, on which the 
half-built houses rot away; cleared here and there for the space of a few yards ; and teeming, then, 
with rank unwholesome vegetation, in whose baleful shade the wretched wanderers who are tempted 
hither, droop, and die, and lay their bones ; the hateful Mississippi circling and eddying before it, 
and turning off upon its southern course, a slimy monster hideous to behold. * * * * 



$ 


WOODING 






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI PIPED. 


5i 


“ The decline of day here was very gorgeous ; tingeing the firmament deeply with red and gold, 
up to the very keystone of the arch above us. As the sun went down behind the bank, the slightest 
blades of grass upon it seemed to become as distinctly visible as the arteries in the skeleton of a 
leaf, and when, as it slowly sank, the red and golden bars upon the water grew dimmer, and dimmer 
yet, as if they were sinking too ; and all the glowing colors of departing day paled, inch by inch, 
before the sombre night; the scene became a thousand times more lonesome and more dreary than 
before, and all its influences darkened with the sky.” 

Mr. Dickens here, by indulging in generalization, like so many other travelers from time imme¬ 
morial, did great injustice to the Mississippi. Before its confluence with the Missouri River, its 
waters are of remarkable purity ; after the junction they contain about three-tenths of sedimentary 
matter. We hardly need say, too, that the towns of the more northern part of the river are as 
bright, and as clean and healthy, as any to be found on the surface of our broad land. 

Memphis, the most important port on the Mississippi between St. Louis and New Orleans, pre¬ 
sents a remarkably fine appearance from the river. An esplanade, having a width of several hundred 
feet and bordered with blocks of large warehouses, extends along the bluff in front of the town. It 



The Levee. 


has doubled in population in ten years, and now has forty-five thousand inhabitants. Vicksburg, 
celebrated for its historic siege, Natchez, and Baton Rouge, the capital of Louisiana, are the other 
principal river towns. 

To those who have very magnificent conceptions of the Mississippi, founded on mere arithmetical 
computations of leagues, or vague geographical data, it may be astonishing, but it is nevertheless 
true, the Mississippi is artificial for many hundreds of miles. Nature has, of course, poured out the 
waters, but man has made the banks. By a vast system of raised embankments, called levees, the 
river is constrained to abstain from overflowing the swamps, now drained, and green with wealth- 
producing crops. During the spring floods the surface of the river is several feet higher than the 
land on each side, and the steamer moves on a level with the upper stories, or even the roofs of the 
houses, reminding one of such scenery as could be witnessed in the old days of treckshuyt in Hol¬ 
land. The river varies in width from 600 to 1,200 yards, but then it is one hundred and eighty feet 
deep, and for hundreds of miles it has not less than one hundred feet of water. Thus deeply has it 
scooped into the rich clay and marl in its course : but as it flows out to join the sea, it throws down 
the vast precipitates which render the bars so shifting and difficult, and bring the mighty river to 






52 


DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI PIPED. 


such a poor exit. Great masses of earth, amounting to thousands of acres in the course of a year, 
cave in annually and slide into the stream, uprooting great numbers of forest-trees, which float out 
with the waters, and become the most dangerous obstructions to navigation. They accumulate on 
sand-bars and in the short bends of the river, and are soon covered by deposits of earth, forming 
new islands or high swampy land. Others will firmly fasten themselves in the channel and become 
the perilous “ snag” or the formidable “ sawyer.” A few miles above the wharfs and large levees of 
New Orleans, the country really appears to be a sea of light green, with shores of forest in the dis¬ 
tance, about two miles away from the bank. Near the banks are houses of wood, with porticoes, 
pillars, verandahs, and sun-shades, generally painted white and green. There is a great uniformity 
of style, but the idea aimed at seems to be that of the old French chateau, with the addition of a 
colonnade around the ground story. The levee is as hard and dry as the bank of the canal. 

The spring floods, raising the river from fifty to seventy feet—at low water the stream is com¬ 
paratively narrow, and on either side the banks are high and sandy—bring anxious days to the 
inhabitants. Sometimes the current, wearing away the levee, overflows the country to the extent of 
thirty miles. The destruction of property caused by these “ crevasses" is very great. During 



Removing Snags by Dredging. 


the spring of 1874, a considerable portion of the State of Louisiana was under water, owing to one 
of these crevasses, and thousands of persons were rendered homeless. The destruction of crops 
and farming utensils made a famine so imminent, that the people were compelled to appeal for assist¬ 
ance to Congress and the country at large. This last break is to be traced to the present corrupt 
government of the State, which, instead of using for its legitimate purpose the money appropriated 
for the repair of the levees, wasted or stole it.* 

The city of New Orleans extends from the Mississippi river to the shores of Lake Pontchartrain ; 
but part of this area, being covered by cypress swamps, remains to be filled up. The canals which 
run from the city to the lake, are very picturesque; those known as Old and New Basin are both 
navigable, and large steamers pass through them to the lake, and schooners laden with produce and 

* A recent writer in Appleton's Journal argues against the policy of reclaiming lands by closing up the bayous. He 
contends that the annual overflow of the Mississippi might be prevented by opening the mouths of the bayous, and allowing 
the surplus waters of the Mississippi to find their way to the lakes, or the Gulf, through them. It is at the bends of the river, 
where the water strikes the levees with the greatest force, that the bayous take their departure. If, therefore, say those who 
hold these views, there is a way of limiting the strength of the current during the floods, by letting the water flow ofFby these 
channels,and thus materially reducing its volume, the mouths of the bayous should be opened and levees built along their banks. 



























DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 


lumber are towed in and out by mules. The danger of 
overflow from the Mississippi and the wet, marshy nature 
of the soil, make good drainage a necessity to the health 
of the population. Notwithstanding the severe blow 
which the war gave the commercial interests of the city, 
it is still one of the first ports of the country. When 
some of the many plans which have been suggested to 
make her the outlet for the grain product of the North¬ 
west come to be executed, the increase to her business 
prosperity will be immense. A capacious barge system 
is at present in operation on the rivers, and an all-rail 
communication with the two great cities of the North¬ 
west will, probably, be established at an early day. The 
Illinois Central Railroad, by building a line from Jackson, 
Tenn., to the Ohio river opposite Cairo, will bring the 
commercial interests of New Orleans in close relation 
with those of Chicago, and make the journey between 
the two cities a trip of only thirty six hours. 

The city has two distinct parts—the American quar¬ 
ter, and the French. The former is much superior in the 
width of its avenues and the beauty of its architecture. 
Among its notable buildings are the St. Charles Hotel, 
the Academy of Music, the St. Charles Theatre, the 
Masonic Hall, the Exposition Hall, and the City Hall. 
The last-named structure is of granite and white marble, 
built in the Ionic style, with a fine portico and massive 
granite pillars. There are one hundred and sixteen 
churches in the city, representing all shades of religious 
belief; but the Roman Catholic Church, owing to the 
French population, is in the majority. 

The cotton trade gives New Orleans much of its pic¬ 
turesque vivacity, and contributes largely to its support. 
It receives most of the cotton crop of Louisiana and 
Northern Mississippi, of Northern Alabama, Arkansas, 
and Florida. Between January and May, which is the 
busy season of the year, the labor is almost unceasing 
at the Cotton Exchange and in all the prominent ware¬ 
houses. Some attention, also, has been given to the 
manufacture of cotton, and two factories have already 
been established which are clearing a profit of from 
eighteen to twenty-five per cent. One of them is located 
at Beauregard, the other at the penitentiary. 

One of the greatest evils, from which New Orleans 
suffers, is the enormity of its taxes. Its city debt is 
estimated at twenty-three millions of dollars, and it is 
responsible for nearly three-fifths of the State debt of 
$42,000,000. The consequence of this condition of 
things, arising from the notoriously corrupt government 
which has been in power for the last few years, is that 
the price of real estate has declined fifty per cent. Not¬ 
withstanding these adverse influences, the census of 1870 
gave New Orleans a population of one hundred and 
ninety-one thousand, an increase of nearly fifty per cent 
over that of i860. That the city should make any pro¬ 
gress at all, in view of these drawbacks, speaks volumes 
for its natural advantages, and proves it possessed of 












































54 HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE YELLOWSTONE . 


elements which, if properly appreciated, and in more propitious days, will raise it to the highest 
commercial importance and prosperity. 

It is a well-known peculiarity of the Mississippi, that, as it approaches its mouth, it grows nar¬ 
rower. After passing New Orleans the depth of the river diminishes, and at a distance of one hun¬ 
dred miles from the city the stream is lost in the low, marshy lands. Here the current is divided 
into three channels, which flow through the half-formed soil, and out into the Gulf. Unfortunately 
for the purposes of navigation the depth in these passes is never great, and varies under the 
influence of wind and weather. 


HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE 

YELLOWSTONE. 



The Hot Springs near Gardiner’s River. 


N EAR the lower end of the third canon, 
Gardiner’s River, a mountain torrent, 
effects a junction with the Yellowstone, and it is 
up the valley through which this stream flows, a 
distance of four miles from the point where the 
two rivers meet, that the famous hot springs are 
located. It is hardly possible to find words to 
express the desolation which here exists. Along 
the valley are strewn boulders of volcanic rock; 
and stagnant lakes, from fifty to one hundred 
feet in diameter, owing their existence to vol¬ 
canic action in long gone ages, are scattered here 
and there. It is necessary to make a divergence 
of about two miles from the bed of the river, 
across a most barren and elevated country, to 
reach the first hot spring. This is six feet wide, 
and has a depth of two feet, with a temperature 
ranging from 126° to 132 0 Fahr. Still ascend¬ 
ing, but returning toward the river-bed, we reach 
four other springs, circular in their form, and 
varying in diameter from six to ten feet. It is in 
this vicinity that we find the extraordinary de¬ 
posits formed by the springs in distant ages, the 
snowy whiteness of which at once suggested the 
name of White Mountain Hot Spring, from the 
remarkable resemblance these deposits bear to 
a frozen cascade. The deposits cover an area 
of four square miles, but the springs in active 
operation are to be found within an area of one 
square mile. The oxide of iron in the water 
gives the streams that flow down the White 
Mountain the most beautiful tints of red, the 
most exquisite shades of yellow, and the most 
brilliant green. Falling down the declivity from 
one basin to the other, and gradually cooling in 
its descent, the water becomes at a distance of 
five hundred yards from the first spring as cool 
and clear as spring water. There are hun¬ 
dreds of these reservoirs, and the party of Dr. 






















GREAT FALLS 





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































56 HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE YELLOWSTONE . 



Boiling Sulphur Springs. 


Hayden bathed in a great number of them, each individual being able to choose the degree of heat 
agreeable to him. 

The margins of the basins are beautifully scalloped, and formations of exquisite beauty are en¬ 
crusted on them. The wonderful variety of these deposits excited the admiration of the party. 
The report of Dr. Hayden says, in treating finally of this neighborhood : “But it is to the wonder¬ 
ful variety of exquisitely delicate colors that this picture owes the main part of its attractiveness. 
The little orifices from which the hot water issues are beautifully enameled with the porcelain-like 
lining, and around the edges a layer of sulphur is precipitated. As the water flows along the valley, 
it lays down in its course a pavement more beautiful and elaborate in its adornment, than art has 
ever yet conceived. The sulphur and the iron, with the green microscopic vegetation, tint the 
whole with an illumination of which no decoration-painter has ever dreamed. From the sides of the 
oblong mound, which is here from thirty to fifty feet high, the water has oozed out at different points, 
forming small groups of the semicircular, step-like basins. 

“ Again, if we look at the principal group of springs from the high mound above the middle ter¬ 
race, we can see the same variety of brilliant coloring. The wonderful transparency of the water 
surpasses anything of the kind I have ever seen in any other portion of the world. The sky, with 
the smallest cloud that flits across it, is reflected in its clear depths, and the ultramarine colors, more 
vivid than the sea, are greatly heightened by the constant gentle vibrations. One can look down 
into the clear depths and see, with perfect distinctness, the minutest ornament on the inner sides of 
the basins ; and the exquisite beauty of the coloring and the variety of forms baffle any attempt to 
portray them, either with pen or pencil. And then, too, around the borders of these springs, espe¬ 
cially those of rather low temperature, and on the sides and bottoms of the numerous little channels 
of the streams that flow from these springs, there is a striking variety of the most vivid colors. I 
can only compare them to our most brilliant aniline dyes—various shades of red, from the brightest 
scarlet to a bright rose tint; also yellow, from deep-bright sulphur, through all the shades, to light 
cream-color. There are also various shades of greei, from the peculiar vegetation. These springs 
are also filled with minute vegetable forms, which under the microscope prove to be diatoms, among 
which Dr. Billings discovers Palmella and Oscillara. There are also in the little streams that flow 
from the boiling springs great quantities of a fibrous, silky substance, apparently vegetable, which 
vibrates at the slightest movement of the water, and has the appearance of the finest quality of 
cashmere wool. When the waters are still these silken masses become incrusted with lime, the 
delicate vegetable threads disappear, and a fibrous, spongy mass remains, like delicate snow- 
white coral.” 

On the way from Mount Washburn to the Upper Falls the party of Mr. Langford came across 
six or eight boiling springs of great size, which emitted large quantities of sulphurous vapor. “ It 
looked like nothing earthly we had ever seen, and the pungent fumes which filled the atmosphere 
were not unaccompanied by a disagreeable sense of possible suffocation. Entering the basin cau¬ 
tiously, we found the entire surface of the earth covered with the incrusted sinter thrown from the 
























HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS QF THE YELLOWSTONE. 


57 


springs. Jets of hot vapor were expelled through a hundred natural orifices with which it was 
pierced, and through every fracture made by passing over it. The springs themselves were as 
diabolical in appearance as the witches’ caldron in Macbeth, and needed but the presence of Hecate 
and her weird band to realize that horrible creation of poetic fancy. They were all in a state of 
violent ebullition, throwing their liquid contents to the height of three or four feet. The largest 
had a basin twenty by forty feet in diameter. Its greenish-yellow water was covered with bubbles, 
which were constantly rising, bursting, and emitting sulphurous gas from various parts of its surface. 
The central spring seethed and bubbled like a boiling caldron. Fearful volumes of vapor were con¬ 
stantly escaping it. Near it was another, not so large, but more infernal in appearance. Its con¬ 
tents, of the consistency of paint, were in constant, noisy ebullition. A stick thrust into it, on being 
withdrawn, was coated with lead-colored slime a quarter of an inch in thickness. Nothing flows 
from this spring. Seemingly, it is boiling down. A fourth spring, which exhibited the same physical 
features, was partly covered by an overhanging ledge of rock. We tried to fathom it, but the 
bottom was beyond the reach of the longest pole we could find. Rocks cast into it increase the 
agitation of its waters. There were several other springs in the group, smaller in size, but presenting 
the same characteristics. 

“ The approach to them was unsafe, the incrustation surrounding them bending in many places 
beneath our weight,—and from the fractures thus created would ooze a sulphury slime of the con¬ 
sistency of mucilage. It was with great difficulty that we obtained specimens from the natural 
apertures with which the crust is filled,—a feat which was accomplished by one only of our party, 
who extended himself at full length upon that portion of the incrustation which yielded the least, but 
which was not sufficiently strong to bear his weight while in an upright position, and at imminent 
risk of sinking into the infernal mixture, rolled over and over to the edge of the opening, and with 
the crest slowly bending and sinking beneath him, hurriedly secured the coveted prize.” 

Between the Upper and the Lower Falls and Yellowstone Lake, which is the central gem of that 
wonderful collection of long-hidden treasures, lies a marvelous region, filled with boiling springs and 
craters, with two hills, three hundred feet high, formed wholly of the sinter thrown from the adjacent 
springs ; and at the base of one of them is a cavern whose mouth is seven feet in diameter, from 
whence a dense jet of sulphurous vapor explodes with a regular report like a high-pressure engine. 
A few yards off is a boiling spring, seventy feet long by forty wide, the water of which is in unceas¬ 
ing agitation ; and in another direction is a boiling alum spring, surrounded with beautiful crystals. 
No wonder that the first beholders of these things called the various points by names of infernal 
significance. There are now no true geysers in this group, but in ancient times there were very 
powerful ones. The steam-vents on the side, and at the foot of these hills, represent the dying 
stages of this once most active group. 

But the real geyser region is just over the margin of the Yellowstone Basin, on the Firehole 
River. The valley in which these wonderful phenomena are located is about twelve miles in length, 



Hot Spring Cone. 














58 HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 


with an average width of three miles. It is said that there are more of these natural wonders in this 
small area than can be found in the rest of the world. 

The Firehole River flows from Madison Lake, one of the most beautiful of the many lovely 
sheets of water in the mountains, and the volume of its waters is increased by the constant acces¬ 
sion of mountain torrents, until just before reaching the geyser-basin, it falls over two cliffs, one 
twenty, and the other fifty feet in height. “ These pretty falls, if located in an Eastern stream, 
would be celebrated in history and song; here amid objects so grand as to stagger belief, they were 
passed without a halt.” 

Everybody knows that a geyser is an eruption of water from the earth to a considerable height 
in the air; but the power to which we owe these extraordinary manifestations of nature, its means 
of action and the causes of its intermittent action, are not so generally understood. For a lucid 
explanation of these phenomena we cannot do better than refer to the disquisition of the learned 
scientist, Prof. Tyndall, on this subject. The particular geyser whose mechanism and development 
he investigated, is the Great Geyser of Iceland ; but the principle of the geysers of the Firehole 
Basin, and of those that have recently been discovered in the celebrated Lake District of New 
Zealand, and of all similar springs, is the same. 

“ It consists of a tube seventy-four feet deep and ten feet in diameter. The tube is surmounted 
by a basin which measures from north to south fifty-two feet across, and from east to west sixty 
feet. The interior of the tube and basin is coated with a beautiful smooth silicious plaster, so hard 

as to resist the blows of a hammer; and the first question is, 
how was this wonderful tube constructed—how was this perfect 
plaster laid on ? Chemical analysis shows that the water holds 
silica in solution, and the conjecture might therefore arise that 
the water had deposited the silica against the sides of the tube 
and basin. But this is not the case : the water deposits no sedi¬ 
ment ; no matter how long it may be kept, no solid substance is 
separated from it. It may be bottled up and preserved for years 
as crystal, without showing the slightest tendency to form a pre¬ 
cipitate. To answer the question in this way would moreover 
assume that the shaft was formed by some foreign agency, and 
that the water merely lined it. The geyser basin, however, rests 
upon a summit of a mound about forty feet high, and it is evident 
from mere inspection that the mound has been deposited by the 
geyser. But in building up this mound the spring must have 
formed the tube which perforates the mound, and hence the con¬ 
clusion tnat the geyser is the architect of its own tube. 

“ If we place a quantity of geyser water in an evaporating 
basin the following takes place: in the centre of the basin the 
liquid deposits nothing, but at the sides where it is drawn up 
by capillary attraction, and thus subjected to speedy evaporation, 
we find silica deposited. Round the edge a ring of silica is 
laid on, and not until the evaporation has continued a consider¬ 
able time do we find the slightest turbidity in 
the middle of the water. This experiment is 
the microscopic representative of what oc¬ 
curs in Iceland. Imagine the case of a sim¬ 
ple thermal silicious spring, whose waters 
trickle down a gentle inclosure ; the water 
thus exposed evaporates speedily, and silica 
is deposited. This deposit gradually elevates 
the side over which the water passes until 
finally the latter has to take another course. 
The same takes place here, the ground is 
elevated as before, and the spring has to move 
forward. Thus it is compelled to travel round 
Giant Geyser. and round, discharging its silica, and deep- 




















HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS QF THE YELLOWSTONE. 


59 


ening the shaft in which it dwells, until finally, in the course of ages, the simple spring has pro¬ 
duced this wonderful apparatus which has so long puzzled and astonished both the traveler and the 
philosopher.” 

The boiling springs, all in active eruption, with craters from three to forty feet high, are scattered 
along both banks of the Firehole River ; and as the expedition hurried along, anxious to reach the 
settlements of Madison Valley, they came in sight of an immense volume of clear, sparkling water, 
projected into the air to the height of one hundred and twenty-five feet. “ Geysers, geysers ! ” they 
shouted in concert; and so they were, this one standing as a sentinel at the mouth of the marvel- 
filled valley. It spouted at regular intervals nine times during the explorers’ stay, the columns of 
boiling water being thrown from ninety to one hundred and twenty-five feet at each discharge, which 
lasted from fifteen to twenty minutes. By a succession of impulses, it seemed to hold the column 
up steadily in the air for the regular space, the great mass falling directly back into the basin, and 
flowing over the edges and down the sides in large streams. When the action ceases, the water 
recedes beyond sight, and nothing is heard but the occasional escape of steam until another exhibi¬ 
tion occurs. The description of one of the geysers, of which there are hundreds, suffices for all, as 
to general features, but the difference in their dimensions is considerable, and the mounds and pro¬ 
jecting rims are of various, though always extraordinary beauty. “ The great beauty of the pris¬ 
matic colors,” writes Dr. Hayden, “ depends much on the sunlight; about the middle of the day, 



Castle Geyser and Fire Basin. 


when the bright rays descend nearly vertically, and a slight breeze just makes a ripple on the sur¬ 
face, the colors exceed comparison ; when the surface is calm there is one vast chaos of colors, 
dancing, as it were, like the colors of a kaleidoscope. As seen through this marvelous play of colors, 
the decorations on the sides of the basin are lighted up with a wild, weird beauty, which wafts one 
at once into the land of enchantment ; all the brilliant feats of fairies and genii in the Arabian 
Nights’ Entertainments are forgotten in the actual presence of such marvelous beauty ; life becomes 
a privilege and a blessing after one has seen and thoroughly felt its cunning skill.” 

Of one, which they called the Castle Geyser, Dr. Hayden writes : “ It is the most imposing forma¬ 
tion in the valley, and receives its name from its resemblance to the ruins of an old fortress. The 
deposited silica has crystallized in immense globular masses, like cauliflowers, or spongiform corals, 
apparently formed about a nucleus at right angles to the centre. The mound is forty, and the chim¬ 
ney twenty feet high, and the lower portion rises in steps formed of thin laminae of silica, an inch or 
two thick. The base of the crater is three hundred and twenty-five feet in circumference, and the 
turret is one hundred and twenty-five. At the base of the turret lies a large petrified pine-log, cov¬ 
ered with a brilliant incrustation several inches thick.” 

The Grand Geyser is the finest object of the kind yet discovered in the world ; and the variety 
of these wonderful things is astonishing. Their number is not less than fifteen hundred, but scarcely 
any two are alike. The explorers’ suspicion that many quiet-looking springs were slumbering gey¬ 
sers, was justified by a magnificent surprise. Their camp was roused in the early morning by a fear- 
















6 o HOT SPRINGS AND GEYSERS OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 



The Grotto. 

ful hissing sound, and the rush of falling water; and, on looking out, they saw a small crater, three 
feet in height, with an opening twenty-six inches in diameter, which had hardly excited any notice, 
playing a perpendicular jet to the height of two hundred and nineteen feet, amid great clouds of 
steam, and causing the ground to tremble as the heavy body of water fell with tremendous splashes 
upon the shelly strata below. Huge masses of rock were torn from their places, and borne away into 
the river-channel. It played steadily for ten minutes. 

The “ Giant Geyser,” writes Lieutenant Doane, “played seyeral times while we were in the 
valley, on one occasion throwing constantly for over three hours a stream of water seven feet in 
diameter, from ninety to two hundred feet perpendicularly, while it doubled the size of the Firehole 
River.” 

Near the Giant is the Grotto, so named from its curious formation. This geyser plays a volume 
of water six feet in diameter to a height of sixty feet. The excitement and pleasure of exploring 
such scenes as those presented by the Upper and Lower Geyser Basins of the Firehole River can¬ 
not be exaggerated in imagination. Every moment brought some fresh wonder to light, every hour 
chronicled a surprise, frequently mingled with awe. The mighty ranges of mountains, the tremen¬ 
dous ravines, the awful evidences of the rule of the Fire King (his power slumbering now, indeed, 
















THE EAST RIVER. 


61 


but still asserted in the geysers and the mud volcanoes, and the impress of this terrible pa »age, in 
the dead ages, on the face of nature everywhere around) ; the beautiful rivers, the far-spreading 
forests, with their noble denizens—elk, buffalo, and deer; the pine-crowned promontories, and the 
fair table-lands, which unite to form the exquisite picture of this remote region, six thousand feet 
above the sea-level, and dating from the Pliocene age, is but the setting of the gem whieh sparkles 
on the summit of it all—the peerless Yellowstone Lake, the “Crown of the Continent.” Of this 
lovely sheet of water we gave a full description, with an illustration, in a preceding part of this volume. 



THE EAST RIVER. 


HE East River is really a part of Long Island Sound, whose water it unites with the Atlantic 



JL Ocean through New York Bay. Until quite recently it was along its banks that the maritime 
business of New York was concentrated. With the constant increase in the commerce of the city 
the occupation of the wharves on the North River became necessary, but a large proportion of 
the ocean traffic and the bulk of the coasting trade are still conducted on the Eastern side. Leav¬ 
ing “ The Battery ” on the left, and sailing up the river, an interesting panorama is spread before 
the eye. As far as one can follow the windings of the river it is instinct with life and action. Vessels 
of all kinds, flying the flags of all nations, form a spectacle which is really bewildering. On the 
wharves are piled up great quantities of merchandise for export or for transport to the interior, and 
hundreds of men and vehicles move busily about. 

Conspicuous are the great packet-ships which sail between New York and Fiuropean ports. 
These lie generally at the wharves of ancient New York, below Wall Street, which was at one 
time the boundary line of the city, whence it derived its name. Further up the river numerous 
ferry-boats may be seen plying between New York and Brooklyn. At the present time there are 
nearly a dozen ferries to Brooklyn and vicinage, all well supplied with good and fast steamboats 
that have an average burden of four hundred tons. So great is the travel over these vessels that 
at certain hours of the day they carry nearly a thousand passengers each on a single trip, besides 
horses and vehicles. 

We have, in a preceding part of this work, described the Brooklyn Bridge, the most conspicuous 
object on the river. At the foot of Tenth Street is the great Dry Dock, which is said to be the 
largest of its kind in the world. Ten years of labor and eighty thousand tons of stone were devoted 
to its construction, and so perfect is its mode of operation, and so great are its power and capacity, 
that the largest vessel may be lifted out of water and secured for repairs in less than five hours. 

The ferry to Blackwell’s Island is at the foot of Sixty-first Street, which is a narrow strip of land 
about a mile long, and is the most southerly of the group of islands that have so long been the sites 
of various important charitable and reform institutions belonging to New York. Blackwell’s Island 
contains the Workhouse, the Lunatic Asylum, and the Almshouse. Drunkenness and petty olfences 
of all kinds are the principal qualifications for a residence in the first-named institution. It is the 
newest of the buildings, but certainly the busiest. Previous to its erection, the class of prisoners 
that now fill it were distributed among the District Prisons, the Penitentiary, the Tombs, and the 
Almshouse. The northern wing contains the female wards, and the southern wing the male. There 
are three stories to the main edifice, and the cross-buildings at the end of each wing have four 
stories and a loft. In these end-buildings are the work-rooms, the reception-rooms, and the officers’- 
rooms. The main building contains the apartments of the warden and physicians, the kitchen, the 
laundries, and the church auditory. The structure is of blue stone. There are also several out¬ 
houses, in which are the shops, the stable, and the boat-house for the Warden’s and the Resident 
Physician’s crew. The work-house was originally intended to be a kind of House of Industry, and 
during the first two years of its existence its occupants were paid for their labor ; this was, however, 
soon abolished, and it became a penal institution. The majority of the prisoners on the Island are 
sent there for drunkenness, vagrancy, and assault, and come mostly from the slums of New York. 

In the Lunatic Asylum the patients are mainly from the poorer classes, and are principally 
women. Mania afflicts more than four-fifths of them, the disease of the remaining fifth being de¬ 
mentia, general paralysis or idiocy. Mania includes the violent forms of mental disease as well as 














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE EAST RIVER. 


63 

confirmed delusions. The building has no rooms stronger than the usual sleeping apartments of a 
hotel, and the only attempt at security is in the cast-iron sashes of the windows ; and these may be 
easily broken. The building is well-adapted for the more harmless forms of insanity, but is too 
insecure for cases where there are dangerous propensities ; while to convicts who feign mental 
derangement in the hope of escape, the greatest facilities to that end are afforded. 

No description of the East River would be complete without giving some account of the 
endeavors that have for some years been made for the removal of the dangerous rocks at the point 
known as Hell Gate, situated just above Blackwell’s Island. Ever since the first settlement of 
New York, the existence of these rocks has been a thorn in the side of those interested in 
maritime pursuits, and has absolutely precluded the use of the shorter route by the Sound to large 
sea-going vessels. Although the direct saving in distance is but fifty miles, practically, allowance 
being made for the time usually lost by vessels of large burden beating about at Sandy Hook, 
waiting for high water to cross the bar, their removal would shorten the time consumed on a 
transatlantic voyage at least one day. 

At Hell Gate a number of islands of rocks lie in the middle of the stream, which is here un¬ 
usually strong and violent. This disturbance of the waters is caused by the difference of elevation be¬ 
tween the two tidal waves whose waters here come together—one entering from the Sound, the other 
by way of Sandy Hook. These two waves meet and battle for victory within a space of less than 
four thousand feet. The eddies and miniature whirlpools which prevail at this point are the con¬ 
sequence of this tidal disturbance. 

The following eloquent description by Irving gives some idea of the violence of the current owing 
to its forcible compression between shouldering rocks and promontories : “ Being at the best of 
times a very violent and impetuous current, it takes these impediments in mighty dudgeon ; boiling 
in whirlpools ; brawling and fretting in ripples ; raging and roaring in rapids and breakers ; and, in 
short, indulging in all kinds of wrong-headed paroxysms. At such times, woe to any unlucky vessel 
that ventures within its clutches. This termagant humor, however, prevails only at certain times of 
tide. At low water, for instance, it is as pacific a stream as you would wish to see. But as the tide 
rises it begins to fret; at half-tide it roars with might and main, like a bull bellowing for more drink ; 
but when the tide is full, it relapses into quiet, and for a time sleeps as soundly as an alderman after 
dinner. In fact, it may be compared to a quarrelsome toper, who is a peaceable fellow enough 
when he has no liquor at all, or when he has a skinful, but who, when half-seas over, plays the 
very devil.” The difficulty of making a safe passage of this point was so great that before any 
attempt was made to improve the channel, a thousand vessels a year were either lost or seriously 
damaged by running against the rocks. “To steer a vessel through these intricate passages, through 
which the water runs with such speed, breaks noisily even in the calmest times upon the rocky 
shores and islands, and whirls in a thousand dizzying eddies, requires,” says the Government surveyor, 
“ a cool head and a steady hand, even with the superior help of steam. But in a sailing-vessel the 
greatest skill and self-possession, without a commanding wind, prove insufficient to guard against 
certain danger.” 

Operations against Hell Gate were not begun before 1851. The first engineer who undertook 
the gigantic task of clearing the rocks was a M. Maillefert, a Frenchman. This gentleman had been 
successful in removing the obstruction in the harbor of Nassau and elsewhere. It was found, how¬ 
ever, that his plan of operation, which consisted of exploding charges of gunpowder against the rock, 
was only partially successful in removing masses of projecting rock, and was totally inadequate to 
displace reefs of solid bed-rock. In brief, M. Maillefert’s plan was only effective when used against 
small bodies of isolated rock. Nevertheless a considerable improvement in the channel resulted 
from his labors. 

The civil war caused a suspension of all operations against Hell Gate ; but in 1866 General 
Newton was assigned by the War Department to make a report as to the best means of removing 
the obstructions. He recommended the direction of all energies toward the main channel. 
Advertisements containing specifications of the work to be accomplished were issued, but so 
little was its nature understood that bids were received varying in amount from $38,000 to $500,000. 
The contract was awarded to the lowest bidder. This gentleman, Mr. Sidney F. Shelbourne, 
who proposed to work by drilling and exploding the rocks, did little more than make various 
experiments and demonstrate, at the cost to himself of twenty thousand dollars, the impossibility 
of certain modes of operation, before the time specified in his contract expired, and the contract 
was withdrawn. 



OPENING OF THE SHAFT BENEATH HELL GATE* 

































































































































































































































































































































THE YOSEMITE VALLEY. 


6 5 


Some idea of the nature of the difficulties to be overcome can be formed from the report of Gen. 
Newton, dated December 19, 1868: “The removal of rocks in Hell Gate is attended with peculiar 
difficulty. The current is extremely rapid, so that divers could not be sent down, in most places, to 
regulate and set the drills, except at slack water. This fact requires that the drill should act inde¬ 
pendently of manual assistance, and therefore peculiar and ingenious devices are required. But the 
more formidable evil is the chance, unavoidable in the long run, of being collided with, from the 
number of vessels, daily increasing, which frequent this narrow pass.” This latter consideration 
finally convinced Gen. Newton, that the only way to proceed was to sink a shaft from the shore, and 
to blow up the roof and its supporting columns by one grand explosion, and afterwards to remove 
the debris by grappling, or as might be otherwise determined. This plan was adopted with com¬ 
plete success, and the final result depends only upon the action of Congress in making the requisite 
appropriations. 

Nitro-glycerine has been largely used in removing isolated rocks ; but as a description of the 
various processes used in this great undertaking would absorb much more space than we have at 
command, we are obliged to content ourselves with giving a brief and incomplete sketch of this 
interesting work. 


- —s— 2^ 3— - 

THE YOSEMITE VALLEY. 

W ORDS fail utterly to give any idea of this extraordinary valley. To paint its wonderful forma¬ 
tion would tax the imagery of a Voltaire. In its wildest and most fanciful explorations into the 
realms of dreamland that fantastic imagination fell utterly below the conception of the physical marvels 
that here abound. In one of his Romans Voltaire did, indeed, foreshadow the existence of a canon 
on a scale then unknown to mankind. His hero, being, by an adverse combination of circumstances, 
encompassed by danger on every side, and not knowing whither to sojourn, embarked in a canoe 
and left his course to the guidance of the broad river’s current. The river-banks, arid in one 
place and in another covered with flowers, by-and-by closed toward each other, and rose perpen¬ 
dicularly toward Heaven, so that it was dark as night on the surface of the water. Still carried on¬ 
ward by the current, which now raged and roared against the rocks and swept by them with awful 
swiftness, he was finally, after passing through inconceivable perils, wrecked in El Dorado,—the 
phantom kingdom of the gold-loving Spaniards. Here his description panders to the avarice of 
civilized man, and fails utterly to cope with, or to give even a glimpse of, Nature’s sublime crea¬ 
tions. Imagination could not conceive of such stupendous mountains of solid stone as those which 
rise perpendicularly from the Valley of the Yosemite to the height of five thousand feet—of a cataract 
having a clear fall of sixteen hundred, and a total fall of over two thousand six hundred feet—or 
of a magical lake which reproduces the surrounding panorama on its bosom with such distinctness 
that the reflection can be copied by an art requiring such sharpness of outline as photography. 

The gorge in the Sierra Nevadas, known as the Valley of the Yosemite, is about fifty miles 
from the town of Coulterville, Mariposa county, California. It is from eight to ten miles long, about 
two miles wide, and is enclosed by walls of solid granite, varying in precipitous height from two 
to five thousand feet. They are not uniform in appearance, in some places being rounded or 
dome-like at the top, while in others they run up into sharp peaks, or assume fantastic forms like the 
ruins of gigantic castles. At the eastern end, the valley terminates in three canons, through each, 
of which passes a branch of the Merced river (a stream that rises near by and runs through the 
valley). On account of the great depression of the valley, the streams from the surrounding moun¬ 
tains find their way into it, and form marvelous cataracts as they dash down its perpendicular sides. 
In the spring, when the snow on the mountain sides melts, these streams are almost innumerable ; 
and even during the dry season there is an abundant supply of water in the valley, keeping its vege¬ 
tation fresh and green, in marked contrast with the barrenness of the surrounding country. 

It is singular, remembering for what a length of time California has been occupied by the 
Spaniards, that the existence of this valley should have remained so long unknown. It was discov¬ 
ered in 1851 by an expedition organized by the miners to punish a party of depredatory Indians, who 
used the valley as a place of safe retreat. Unhappily for them, the pursuit being conducted with 





66 


THE YOSEMITE VALLEY. 


energy and boldness, their trail showed the way into their fastness, and, a battle ensuing, they were 
nearly exterminated. But it was not until 1856, that travel commenced to flow hitherward. Not¬ 
withstanding the fact that the State of California, to which the Valley belongs, refuses to grant a 
lease for a longer term than ten years, a number of hotels, capable of containing from three hundred 
to three hundred and fifty guests, have sprung up. Mr. Nordhoff in his recent work on this subject 
strongly advocates the grant of the Valley to a corporation, to be organized with a large capital, for 
a term of years. In this manner the much-to-be-desired improvements could be effected, and all 
acts of vandalism prevented. Already bridges have been erected across the Merced River, and 
exorbitant tolls are exacted. As the tide of travel in the direction of this wonderful and unique 
locality increases, so will the vexations, restraints, and annoying charges, which are so universal at 
all places of great resort, be multiplied. 

To give even a brief account of the various interesting sights, would be manifestly impossible in 
an article of this description. We therefore subjoin a table of the principal physical phenomena. For 
purposes of comparison let the reader remember that the Palisades of the Hudson River are but 
six hundred feet in height, and that the Falls of Niagara have a descent of only one hundred and 
sixty-three feet. 


Indian Name. 

Tu-tock-a-mu-la. 

Poo-see-nah Chuk-ka 


Pom-pom-pasus... 
Hep-se-tuck-a-nah 

Loya. 

Loya. 

Ummo. 

Patillima. 

To-coy-ae. 

Hunto. 


Tis sa-ack 
Way an... 


MOUNTAINS. 

Signification. 
Great Chief of the Valley.... 
Large Acorn Cache. 


Mountains Playing Leap-Frog 

Gone in. 

Signal Station. 

Signal Station. 

Lost Arrow. 


. Shade to Indian Baby Basket 
The Watching Eye. 


.Goddess of the Valley 

.Pine Mountain. 

Cloud’s Rest. 

.Cap of Liberty. 

Mount Star King. 


American Name. Height 

El Capitan... 3 , 3 °° f eet 

Cathedral Rocks ... .2,660 feet 

The Cathedral Spires.1,800 feet 

Three Brothers.3,830 feet 

Union Rocks.3,500 feet 

.Sentinel Rock.3,043 feet 

Sentinel Dome.4,500 feet 

.. 3,000 feet 

.Glacier Rock.3.200 feet 

Royal Arches.1,800 feet 

Washington Column.1,875 feet 

North Dome.3,568 feet 

South Dome. 4,737 feet 

Mount Watkins.3,900 feet 

.6,034 feet 

.4,000 feet 

.5,600 feet 


Po-ho-no.. 
Yo-Semite 


Py-wy-ack 
Yo-wy-ye.. 
Illilouette. 
Yocoy-se. . 
Loya. 


WATERFALLS. 


.Cataract... 

Night Wind.Bridal Veil 

Large Grizzly Bear.Yosemite.. 


.First Fall.. 
Second Fall 
Third Fall.. 


.Sparkling Water.Vernal. 

.Nevada. 

The Beautiful..South Fork _ 

Shade to Indian Baby Basket.Royal Arch Falls 

..Sentinel Falls... 


900 feet 
630 feet 
2,634 feet 
1.600 feet 
600 feet 
434 feet 
350 feet 
700 feet 
600 feet 
1,000 feet 
3,000 feet 


One of the principal objects of interest, and one of the loveliest waterfalls in the world, is Bridal 
Veil Fall, formed by a stream which enters the Valley from the south. It falls from a height of 630 
feet in a clear symmetrical arch of indescribable beauty; but, in summer, the creek of which it is a 
part is no larger than a common mill-stream. The foot of the waterfall is very difficult of access, 
owing to the almost impenetrable jungle which surrounds it. To reach it, it is necessary to scale 
huge masses of granite piled up in irregular order. During a certain part of the dry season, how¬ 
ever, these difficulties may be avoided, the water being then so low that visitors can walk up the 
bed of the stream. 

About a mile above the Bridal Veil Fall is the principal section of the northern wall called El 
Capitan. This stupendous mass of granite rises from the valley to a height of 3,300 feet. Although 
the precipices on each side are ragged and dingy, El Capitan is as bright and smooth as though it 
had been recently polished. It is nearly two miles broad. In a niche half way up its side 













































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































68 


THE YOSEMITE VALLEY\ 


there grows a solitary pine-tree. Although there are no indications of any soil near it, nor any 
visible means by which soil could have been deposited in such a place, the tree seems hardy and 
thriving. A short distance up the Valley are the Cathedral Rocks. These consist of two columns 
or spires about 2,660 feet high, which have a gable-shaped rock between them. The cluster has 
a strong resemblance to the faqade of a cathedral, and from this fact is their name derived. We 
next come to the Sentinel, a remarkable projection in the southern wall, nearly perpendicular, and 
terminating in sharp peaks far above the general line of the wall, and 4,500 feet above the bed of the 
valley. Nearly opposite are three peaks known as the Three Brothers, leaning over towards the 
Valley. The highest of the group is 3,830 feet above the river. 

On the northern side of the Valley, and at a little distance from the Three Brothers, is the great 
Yosemite Fall, formed by a stream of the same name. The river reaches the valley in three leaps, 
the wall at this point forming three courses, and leaving a shelf or plateau at the bottom of each to 
receive the falling water. The upper course is the highest, affording the stream an unobstructed 
fall of 1,600 feet. It then rushes along until it takes a second leap of 234 feet, and after that another 
of 400 feet. The height from the top of the fall to the level of the valley is 2,634 feet. The upper 
fall is considered the highest in the world. Unlike the other cataracts in the valley the hot season 
does not so diminish the volume of the Yosemite Fall but that at all times of the year a well-defined 
sheet of water pours over it to the bottom. When the Valley was first explored, it was asserted that 
a greater cataract than Niagara had been discovered. The two are so widely different in character, 
however, that no comparison can be made between them. The falls of the Yosemite owe their 
attraction to the immense height from which the waters descend, and the grand scenery which sur¬ 
rounds them ; while Niagara is famous for its immense volume. We quote from the description of 
a distinguished European writer the following comparison between the scenery here afforded, and 
some of the most sublime parts of Switzerland : “When we come to the ‘Yosemite Falls’ proper, 
we behold an object which has no parallel anywhere in the Alps. The upper part is the highest 
waterfall in the world, as yet discovered, being sixteen hundred feet in height. It reminds me of 
nothing in the Alps but the avalanches seen falling at intervals down the precipices of the Jungfrau. 
It is, indeed, a perpetual avalanche of water comminuted as finely as snow, and spreading, as it 
descends, into a transparent veil, like the train of the great comet of 1858. As you look at it from 
the valley beneath, a thousand feet below, it is not unlike a snowy comet, perpetually climbing, not 
the heavens, but the glorious cliffs which tower up three thousand feet into the zenith above, not 
unlike a firmament of rock.” 

Below the Falls are two of the most striking views in the whole valley, formed by two huge 
mountains of bare granite, called the North and South Domes. In an easterly direction from them, 
and towards the base of the Northern wall there is a valley which branches off from the main one, 
and is drained by the North Fork of the Merced. A short walk through it brings the tourist to 
Mirror Lake, a sheet of water about a mile in circumference, and remarkably transparent. The 
surrounding trees and rocks are reflected in its bosom with such faithfulness that the shadows are 
almost as distinct and clearly defined as the objects themselves. Standing on its shore, and looking 
to the south, a full view of the South Dome may be obtained. It is a mountain of rock that rivals 
El Capitan in grandeur. From a base covered with debris of soil and rock, it rises in the air 4,737 
feet. It is much higher than the Captain, and although it does not present such a large area of 
perpendicular surface, its sides are almost perfectly straight nearly half the distance down from the 
summit. The mountain is sometimes called the Semi-Dome, a large portion of the side next to the 
Valley appearing to have been broken away at some remote period. Efforts have been made to 
scale it, but they have been futile, and it is to-day generally believed that it is impossible to do so. 

Turning back from the Lake, and entering the canon through which the main branch of the 
Merced river flows, the same variety of scenery presents itself. Vast masses of rock loom up from 
the banks of the river on both sides, and huge boulders are scattered around. About two miles up 
the valley there rises a perpendicular wall which prevents any further progress. Over its top the 
river falls a distance of nearly 400 feet, forming the Vernal Fall, which by many is considered the 
most beautiful cataract in the Valley, although some tourists claim that distinction for the Bridal 
Veil. Against the wail over which the cataract descends, there are placed several flights of dilapi¬ 
dated ladder-stairs, up which the visitor may ascend to the top, if he be sufficiently venturesome. 
On the plateau above, and close to the brink of the precipice, there is a natural parapet of rock, 
breast-high, over which one can lean with perfect safety, and trace the course of the foaming water, 



THE YOSEMITE FALLS 















































































70 


THE YOSEMITE VALLEY. 



until it strikes the rocks below. In the 
afternoon, when the sun shines, there 
may be seen at this fall that beautiful 
spectacle — a circular rainbow. It is 
like the simple rainbow, having the 
same colors, only that it is a complete 
circle, which dissolves and constantly 
forms and reforms far below. 

A mile further up the Merced Valley 
we come to Nevada Fall. This is, in 
one sense, the largest in the valley, 
since it presents the greatest body of 
water falling the greatest distance. It 
is yoo feet high, and during those sea¬ 
sons of the year, when the river is 
swollen and deep, it shoots clear of the 
rock, and so descends to the bottom ; 
but during the dry season it strikes the 
rock a short distance below the top, and 
spreads out into a broad sheet of foam. 

The following comparison is made 
by a gentleman to whom we have before 
made reference : 

“To return again to the comparison 
of the sister valleys—the Yosemite and 
the Lauterbrunnen. The third peculiar 
feature of the Swiss valley is the parallel 
precipices on each side, rising perpen¬ 
dicularly from one thousand to fifteen hundred feet. 


Mirror Lake and Mount Watkins. 

They are, indeed, sublime, and where the 
cliff projects, in a rounded form, like the 
bastions of some huge castle, you might 
imagine that you beheld one of the 
strongholds of the fabled Titans of old. 
But what are they, compared with such 
a giant as El Capitan, lifting up his 
square, granite forehead, three thousand 
three hundred feet above the grassy 
plain at his feet, a rounded, curving cliff, 
as smooth, as symmetrical to the eye, 
and absolutely as vertical, for the upper 
fifteen hundred feet, as any Corinthian 
pillar on earth ! What shall we say, 
when, standing in the middle of a valley 
more than a mile wide, you know that 
if these granite walls should fall towai'd 
each other, they would smite their fore¬ 
heads together hundreds of feet above 
the valley ! What magnificent domes 
are those, scarcely a mile apart—the one 
three thousand eight hundred feet, and 
the other four thousand five hundred 
and ninety-three feet in height! When 
you stand in the valley of Lauterbrun¬ 
nen, and look at the snowy summit of 
Jungfrau, or ‘ Virgin,’ you behold an 
object eleven thousand feet above you ; 



El Capitan from Merced River. 






















THE YOSEMITE VaThEY. 


/I 



but your map will tell you that it is five miles distant, and, by a little calculation, you will find 
that you raise your eyes at an angle of only twenty-three degrees. So at Chamounix, you look up 
at the snowy dome of Mont 
Blanc, rising twelve thousand 
three hundred and thirty feet 
above you ; but you must re¬ 
member that it is six and one- 
half miles distant from you, 
and the angle at which you 
view it is only twenty degrees, 
while the very sharpest angle 
at which you can view it is 
twenty-five degrees. But at 
Yosemite you need but climb 
a few rods up the rocks at the 
base of that granite wall, and, 
leaning up against it, you may 
look up—if your nerves are 
steady enough to withstand 
the impression that the cliffs 
are falling over upon you— 
and see the summits above 
you, at an angle of nearly 
ninety degrees ; in other 
words, you will behold a moun¬ 
tain top three thousand feet 
above you in the zenith .” 

The Yosemite Valley is 
about a mile wide. The soil 
is diversified ; in some places 
it is rich, while in others light 
and stony. Two or three at¬ 
tempts at farming have proven 
that grain and potatoes will 
grow well there. Timber is 
abundant, and consists of pine, 
cedar, fir, and oak, but no¬ 
where is the forest dense. In 
tracts that are somewhat 
marshy, the grass grows long 
and green, and cattle and 
horses are occasionally driven 
there to pasture from the sur¬ 
rounding country. 

The descent into the Val¬ 
ley is about three miles in 
length, and is very steep, al¬ 
though in no part impracti¬ 
cable to the California horse. 

But whatever the difficulties 
which attend the visit, the 
tourist will find the grandeur 
of the scenery full compensa¬ 
tion for all his pains. 


Big Tree. 
















DUCK-SHOOTING ON SARATOGA LAKE 














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































SARATOGA SPRINGS AND SARATOGA LAKE. 


n 


SARATOGA SPRINGS AND SARATOGA LAKE. 

T HERE is not a word in our language more suggestive of gayety, of frivolity, of a total banish¬ 
ment of care, than Saratoga. The virtues of its Springs have given it a long-established pre¬ 
eminence even among famous watering-places. Not only is it a rendezvous for those butterflies of 
fashion whose unremitting devotion to the sacred duties of society during the long winter season has 
told upon their delicate frames, but chiefs of bureaus from Washington, merchant princes from New 
York, “speculative” statesmen from the South, invalids from Europe vainly seeking that health so 
little valued until lost, English tourists bent on “ doing ” America, literary men representing the 
journals of the great centres on the alert for the latest rumor or the last scandal, governors of 
States looking (according to a recent foreign critic*) not at all like governors, fortunate miners 
from the Territories, lovers hoping that the freedom of the place will give them that opportunity 
which the routine of city life does not afford—all these, from all parts of this continent and every 
country in Europe, here meet on one common ground ; with aims and aspirations widely differing, 
perhaps, but all nominally bent on seeking that dim unreality, pleasure—so much sought after, but 
so rarely found. 

Saratoga owes its celebrity to the medicinal qualities of its waters. This spot is said to have 
been visited by invalids as early as 1773 ; but Congress Spring, whose waters are now in the great¬ 
est request, was not discovered until 1792, though it had for a long time been known to, and esteemed 
by, the Indians, who, many years before the Revolutionary War, frequented the High Rock Spring. 
The springs number about twenty-three or four, and are spread over a tract twelve miles across. 
After the Congress Waters, which are bottled and shipped to all parts of the world, the springs most 
in favor and use at Saratoga are the Empire, the Hathorn, the Columbian, the High Rock, the Red, 
the Pavilion, and Putnam’s. The Excelsior, Minnehaha, Star and Saratoga Springs are also popular. 
The Empire Spring, the most northerly one in the village, has grown greatly in repute of late years. 
The Hathorn Spring, which is situated not far from the Empire, is also esteemed for the curious 
character of the rock from which it issues, and whence it derives its name. This singular rock has 
been formed by the accumulated deposits of the mineral substances (magnesia, lime, and iron) held 
in solution by the carbonic acid gas of the springs. The circumference of the rock at the surface of 
the ground is twenty-four feet and four inches, its height three feet, with an aperture nearly one foot 
in diameter. The Seltzer Spring is newly opened. All of these waters have been found very bene¬ 
ficial in cases of affection of the liver and chronic diseases of the bowels. 

The scenery surrounding the village possesses few, if any extraordinary attractions, excepting 
Saratoga Lake, of whose beauties we have endeavored to give a faithful word and crayon picture in 
these pages. The village itself consists chiefly of a single street lined with spacious hotels, board¬ 
ing-houses, and the private residences of the stationary population. The first hut was erected in 
1 773 , by Dereck Scowton, and the first frame-house in 1784, by General Schuyler. The streets are 
gratefully shaded by fine trees, and most of the hotels have spacious grounds tastefully laid out. 
The Alpha and Omega of the daily Saratoga programme are to drink, to eat, and to criticise your 
neighbors. A recent writer thus describes it: “ After water drinking and breakfasting, Madame 
Saratoga sits in silence on the piazza until it becomes too hot, when she retires to dress for dinner. 
After dinner she drives out or takes forty winks. Then she redresses and sits silently on the same 
piazza listening to music. About dusk all the leading hotels wake to life. The Grand Union goes 
to the Congress, the Congress goes to the United States, the United States to the Grand Union, 
and so on, till the full round is made, and till the fair inmates of every one of the hotels have 
reviewed the dresses of all their rivals in all the others. Sometimes Saratoga is supposed to dance 
in the evening, but she never does in reality. The hall rooms are thrown open and illuminated, the 
orchestras are playing the Madame Angot quadrille and the Blue Danube waltz, but no one dances, 
except a few boarding-house inmates who smuggle themselves into the hotels.” 

Saratoga Lake is nine miles long, and three miles broad, and is about three miles from Saratoga 
Springs, and about eight miles west of the Hudson River, which receives its outlet waters under 

* Probably this fastidious gentleman is a descendant of that well-to-do countryman who went to London with no other 
object than to see the king, George III., and who, on returning to his native village, astonished his neighbors by declaring 
that the king was only a man. 


74 


SARATOGA SPRINGS AND SARATOGA LAKE . 



the name of Fish Creek. The 
same stream, before its en¬ 
trance into the lake, is called 
by the sesquipedalian title of 
Rayaderosseras River. With 
its pretty maiden name it 
loses its beauty, and flows 
forth from its union with the 
lake, in a dull and murky 
stream, and so drops slug¬ 
gishly into the Hudson. The 
dimensions of Saratoga Lake 
dwindle into insignificance 
when viewed by the side of 
the great lakes of New York ; 
but its natural beauties are so 
many and varied that every 
year thousands of pleasure- 
seekers flock to its shores and glide over its 
tranquil surface in search of game and fish, 
which abound in great plenty and variety. 
In the fall of the year duck-shooting is one 
of the favorite pastimes of the sportsman, 
and lovers of the piscatory art may be seen 
trolling for pickerel, or still-fishing for perch, 
bass, and other kinds of fish, and always with 
success. It is in the autumn that the beau¬ 
ties of Saratoga Lake can be best appre¬ 
ciated ; during those “ melancholy days the 
saddest of the year ” the fairy-like tints of 
the rich and mellowed foliage on its picturesquely indented banks give it a peculiar, if somewhat 
sombre, charm. Until recently but slight efforts haye been made to improve the natural beauties 
of the lake. The farms in the vicinity have been in the possession of the families who now 
own them ever since the first settlement of the country. A more delightful spot for the erection of 
country residences could not well be found. A stroll among its shores presents to view hills on 
which charming villas -might cluster, each with its own spacious ground and splendid water view; 
hollows half shadow, half sunshine, in which a group of rustic cottages might be gathered. Mr. Frank 
Leslie, the well-known publisher, owns an estate on the borders of the lake, on which he has 




A Feeder to the Lake. 



Perch-Fishing on the Lake, 






75 


PROPOSED CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION AT PHILADELPHIA. 

erected a fine residence, and there are rumors that other wealthy New Yorkers will soon follow his 
example. The indications are that Saratoga Lake will be better known in the future than the past. 

An old Indian superstition connected with this lake, undoubtedly had its origin in its unusual 
loneliness and tranquillity. The Mohawks rested in the belief that its stillness was sacred to the 
Great Spirit, and that, if a human voice uttered a sound upon its waters, the canoe of the unhappy 
offender would sink to rise no more. An anecdote is related of an Englishwoman, in the early days 
of the first settlers, who, desiring to cross this lake with a party of Indians, was warned by them 
before setting out, of the awfulness of the spell. The day was still and dreamy, and the light canoe 
passed over the glossy water as silently as a feather. When in about the middle of the lake, the 
woman, wishing to shatter the blind superstition of the red-skins, uttered a loud cry. Instantly the 



Fishing from a Sail-boat. 


countenances of the Indians became clouded, and after a moment’s pause, and in gloomy silence, 
they drove the light craft like a shadow over the smooth surface. After reaching the shore in safety, 
and landing the canoe, the woman rallied the Mohawk on his credulity. “ The Great Spirit is 
merciful,” replied the chief scornfully; “ He knows that a white woman cannot hold her tongue.” 


THE PROPOSED CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION 

AT PHILADELPHIA. 

T HE three chief cities of the Atlantic States—New York, Boston, and Baltimore—differ to a 
marked degree from each other in respect to their architecture, the manner in which they are 
laid out, the characteristics of their populations, and their mode of living. New York is eminently 
cosmopolitan. It is built in its lower and ancient wards as though its founders were cramped for 
room, and found it necessary to make the streets as narrow as possible, without rendering them no¬ 
thoroughfares ; although in its upper part it is sufficiently commodious and regular. Its population 
is varied and constantly changing, all nationalities being represented, and the city has the bustling, 

























76 PROPOSED CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION A T PHILADELPHIA. 


busy air that always marks a great sea-port. Boston is laid out with an absolutely woful want of 
regularity. It is, compared with New York, a quiet city, with a well-known leaning toward art and 
literature ; and it has a conscious air of being exclusive, dignified, and select, which the press and 
the people of the city have alike carefully endeavored to preserve. Philadelphia, on the other hand, 
is laid out evenly and regularly. Its industries are so different from those of New York or the me¬ 
tropolis of New England, that they have naturally affected the character of the people, who are 
domestic and home-loving, and do not build their houses to gain the admiration of passers-by, but 
with a view to comfort and durability. They have also plenty of room for the extension of the city’s 
area, and have thus taken to the erection of great numbers of small houses for the accommodation 
of the poorer classes—a style of building that has no parallel in any of our other large cities. When 
we consider the miseries that attend life in the tenement-houses of New York during the summer 
months, this is an advantage that cannot be over-estimated. There are very few tenement-houses 
in Philadelphia. Each household has its own dwelling, which, although small, is at least comfortable. 
“ In other cities,” says a writer on this subject, “ the question has been to give the working classes 
clean and comfortable apartments. In Philadelphia it has been how to give them pleasant and attrac¬ 
tive homes. It is impossible to place too high a value on the effect of this home influence on the 
morals and manners of a great city, not to mention the amount of suffering it prevents, and the 
happiness it confers on families. The quiet atmosphere that seems to rest on its homes, pervades 
all the active life in the city. The hurrying, jostling crowds that block the lower end of Broadway, 
are not seen. Men move as if they had time to do all that was necessary. You are not carried 
away by the restless, feverish existence that makes New York boil like a cauldron. In the latter 
city, men seem all to be only getting ready to live, as if they had no time to enjoy existence until 
they had reached a certain goal, towards which they were driving under a full head of steam.” In 
Philadelphia, the inhabitants seem to have modeled their lives on a fixed plan, and move on evenly 
and quietly to the end. A Philadelphian, it is said, lives nearly twice as long in one year as a New 
Yorker. 

The approaching Centennial celebration of the Declaration of Independence, of which Philadel¬ 
phia is to be the scene, is designed to be mainly an exposition of the best products of the various 
States and Territories. An interesting part of the display to American eyes will be that embracing 
relics of the Revolution. In this respect Philadelphia will have one of the richest contributions to 
make. Of great interest, too, will its old public buildings be. In Faneuil Hall, the first and boldest 
utterances were heard in favor of the freedom of the colonies ; but Independence Hall gave birth 
to the Magna Charta of American history. This old structure of old-fashioned red brick still stands 
as it did nearly a hundred years ago ;, and visitors will be enabled to look upon the rooms that first 
heard the well-known words of the Declaration of Independence. 

The city of Philadelphia is probably, in territory, one of the largest in the world. Although 
lying between two rivers, the Delaware and the Schuylkill, it is not bounded by them, and has almost 
unlimited room for expansion. Although with a much smaller population than New York, it already 
covers a much greater area, embracing within its limits one hundred and twenty-six square miles. 
It has also a park—Fairmount Park—lying on the banks of the Schuylkill with the Wissahickon 
flowing through it. It is one of the largest in the country, and is full of interesting points and 
picturesque scenes. Much of the natural wildness of the original grounds has been preserved, and 
presents a fine contrast to the more cultivated parts. There are lovely drives and walks, and the 
carriage road along the banks of the Wissahickon is as picturesque and beautiful as any artist can 
wish for. 

Philadelphia has also fine modern buildings. Among these may be mentioned the New Masonic 
Temple, the Girard College, the Union League Building, and the Ledger Building. The wealth and 
prosperity of the city are owing almost entirely to its factories, which turn out annually wares to the 
average value of about two hundred and seventy-five millions of dollars. Its iron foundries alone 
produce more than a third of this amount. The Schuylkill river divides the city into two sections ; 
that lying on the western bank is known as West Philadelphia. It is on much higher ground than 
the old city, and is built up in finer style. 



or 


PHILADELPHIA FROM FAIRMOUNT PARK, THE PROPOSED SITE OF THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION. 



































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































78 


THE REGION OF THE JUNIATA . 


THE JUNIATA. 

T HROUGH the wildest region of 
Pennsylvania flows as lovely a 
river as there is in the country. Rising in 
the Alleghany mountains, the Juniata 
winds its devious way eastward through a 
hundred and fifty miles of mountain scen¬ 
ery to the Susquehanna, into which it 
empties. Thirty years ago travelers cros¬ 
sing the mountains to the Ohio River were 
accustomed to make the journey driving 
slowly in huge wagons along the banks of 
this river; to-day the same route is still 
taken, but it is on the Pennsylvania rail¬ 
road ; and a canal and telegraph line 
bear the railway track company. With 
this exception in the manner of trans¬ 
portation, the spirit of progress has made 
no material change in the Juniata valley. 
The inhabitants are mainly stolid old 
Pennsylvania farmers, who entertain con¬ 
tempt for anything new, and to this day 
prefer the good old-fashioned way of travel¬ 
ing to the “ whizz and spit railroads.” 
For the most part of German descent, they 
lead a life remarkable for its industry, sim¬ 
plicity, and thrift, and most of them are 
wealthy. 

At its junction with the Susquehanna, 
the banks of the Juniata command beautiful prospects, whichever way the eye turns. Northward 
can be traced the placid course of the former river, with its green islands and long low sand-bars. 
Southward, fertile pastures and staid old farm-houses rise in view, while here and there groups of 
lazy cattle are feeding on the green grass ; and westward its own blue waters flow with their 
treasures of surrounding scenery. 

Newport is a little town ten miles up the river. In its neighborhood are fine mountain views and 
pretty wooded walks along the banks of the canal, and numerous romantic brooks and charming 
forest nooks and glens. In the vicinity of Millerstown, Mifflintown, and Lewistown—thriving villages 
situated a little farther up the river—numerous picturesque rivulets and some more pretentious 
streams come flowing into the valleys. In most of them trout may be captured in abundance, and 
in the forests an occasional deer may be seen. At Lewistown there is a stream, that is even excep- 
tionably remarkable for the beauty of its surroundings. The path along its banks is shaded by 
overhanging trees, and leads past little cascades and several charming old mills and cottages, and oc¬ 
casionally an old log-dwelling, with the remains of a capacious fire-place, calling to memory the hardy 
pioneers who first entered the wilderness of Pennsylvania in dangerous times long ago. And if the 
tourist be of a romantic nature, he may gather from the old inhabitants rich pages of Indian history 
and legendary lore. 

Westward from Lewistown is the village of Huntingdon, near the upper waters of the river. 
Here the character of the country begins to undergo a change. The hills wear a more imposing 
look, and encroach more and more upon the area of the valley. At Petersburg, the railway which 
for most of the distance keeps very close to the bank of the river, branches off towards a tributary 
called the Little Juniata. The tourist may take any of the three routes—the river, the canal, or the 
railway—and in any event may be assured of sufficient variety and entertainment, though the two 
former give the best opportunities for studying the character of the country. 


THE REGION OF 



Peace and Plenty. 






SCENE ON A CREEK EMPTYING INTO THE LITTLE JUNIATA. 










































































8o 


THE REGION OF THE JUNIATA 


Going up the river one passes Alexandria, which has the honor of being the social centre of the 
valley. Beyond Alexandria is a little place called Water Street. Here the canal joins the river, 
forming what the boatmen call slackwater. This is one of the most picturesque spots in the valley. 
The hills are of commanding height, and the river road for a few miles lies in their shadow. The 
mountain sides are in many places marked by the debris of occasional land slides—a feature which 
is characteristic of much of the Juniata scenery. 

From Water Street we go on twenty or thirty miles to Hollidaysburg, at the base of the Allegha- 
nies. Here boats and cars were once transported over the mountains through Blair’s Summit Gap 
by a portage railroad—a work of some magnitude whose construction required much enterprise and 
skilful engineering. It is forty miles long, and ascends to an elevation of two thousand five hundred 
and seventy feet. There are ten inclined planes on the route, varying in height from 4^ to 5f de¬ 
grees, to which the cars were raised by stationary steam-engines ; a tunnel eight hundred and seventy 
feet long, through the Staple Bend Mountain of the Conemaugh ; and four viaducts—one of which, 
over the Horse-shoe Bend, is a semicircular arch of eighty feet span. The cost of this road was 
over two million dollars before the war and the days of paper currency. The necessity for much of 
this apparatus has since been obviated by the construction of a tunnel. 

At this point the journey westward terminates, and returning to Water Street, a pleasant walk 
of three miles will take one across the country to the railway at Spruce Creek. Although a new 
town, this is the most prosperous in the Juniata region. A morning’s ramble into the neighboring 
country will disclose as fresh and varied a scenery as anybody can desire. In one place is a broad, 
dew-sprinkled lawn, in another a dense thicket, and again a little waterfall, while the sterner fea¬ 
tures of the landscape remind one of the Catskills. 

The central or mountain region of Pennsylvania is nearly two hundred miles in length. On one 
side of this section of country are the meadow lands of the, Atlantic slope, and on the other is the 
fertile basin of the Ohio. The rich soil of the two latter makes them the grain-producing sections 
of the State, while the central and mountainous territoryTurnishes vast stores of anthracite coal and 
ores of various kinds. It is through the latter region that the Juniata flows. Its surface is marked 
also by numerous parallel ridges of mountains of the Appalachian chain—among which, nearest to 
the Eastern section, are the South Mountain, Blue Ridge, and the Kittatinny. Through the latter 
the Delaware passes at the celebrated Water Gap, and the Lehigh river at Wind Gap. These 



The Little Juniata—Tyrone in the Distance. 


































NIAGARA FALLS: PAST AND FUTURE. 


mountain ranges have an average height of a little over a thousand feet, and although they have no 
element of grandeur, they contain many gems of water and valley scenery. It is in the forty or fifty 
miles of hill and valley which lie between the Kittatinny and the Susquehanna that the great Penn¬ 
sylvanian coal-beds lie. 


NIAGARA FALLS: PAST AND FUTURE. 

A PHILOSOPHICAL DISQUISITION BY PROFESSOR TYNDALL. 

W E have now to consider the genesis and proximate destiny of the Falls of Niagara. We may 
open our way to this subject by a few preliminary remarks upon erosion. Time and intensity 
are the main factors of geologic change, and they are in a certain sense convertible. A feeble force 
acting through long periods, and an intense force acting through short ones, may produce approxi¬ 
mately the same results. To Dr. Hooker I have been indebted for some samples of stones, the first 
examples of which were picked up by Mr. Hackworth on the shores of Lyell’s Bay, near Wellington, 
in New Zealand. They have been described by Mr. Travers in the Transactions of the New Zea¬ 
land Institute. Unacquainted with their origin, you would certainly ascribe their forms to human 
workmanship. They resemble flint knives and spear-heads, being apparently chiseled off into faces 
with as much attention to symmetry as if a tool guided by human intelligence had passed over 
them. But no human instrument has been brought to bear upon these stones. They have been 
, wrought into their present shape by the wind-blown sand of Lyell’s Bay. Two winds are dominant 
here, and they in succession urged the sand against opposite sides of the stone ; every little particle 
of sand chipped away its infinitesimal bit of stone, and in the end sculptured these singular 
forms. 5 ** ^ 

The Sphinx of Egypt is nearly covered up by the sand of the desert. The neck of the Sphinx is 
partly cut across, not, as I am assured by Mr. Huxley, by ordinary weathering, but by the eroding 
action of the fine sand blown agaihst it. In these cases nature furnishes us with hints which may 
be taken advantage of in art ; and this action of sand has been recently turned to extraordinary 
account in the United States. When in Boston, I was taken by Mr. Josiah Quincy to see the action 
of the sand-blast. A kind of hopper containing fine silicious sand was connected with a reservoir 
of compressed air, the pressure being variable at pleasure. The hopper ended in a long slit, from 
which the sand was blown. A plate of glass was placed beneath this slit, and caused to pass slowly 
under it ; it came out perfectly depolished, with a bright opalescent glimmer, such as could only be 
produced by the most careful grinding. Every little particle of sand urged against the glass, having 
all its energy concentrated on the point of impact, formed there a little pit, the depolished surface 
consisting of innumerable hollows of this description. But this was not all. By protecting certain 
portions of the surface and exposing others, figures and tracery of any required form could be etched 
upon the glass. The figures of open iron-work could be thus copied ; while wire-gauze placed over 
the glass produced a reticulated pattern. But it required no such resisting substance as iron to 
shelter the glass. The patterns of the finest lace could be thus reproduced ; the delicate filaments 
of the lace itself offering a sufficient protection. 

All these effects have been obtained with a simple model of the sand-blast devised for me by my 
assistant. A fraction of a minute suffices to etch upon glass a rich and beautiful lace pattern. Any 
yielding substance may be employed to protect the glass. By immediately diffusing the shock of 

* “ The stones, which have a strong resemblance to works of human art, occur in great abundance, and of various 
sizes, from half an inch to several inches in length. A large number were exhibited showing the various forms, which are 
those of wedges, knives, arrow-heads, &c., and all with sharp cutting edges. 

“ Mr. Travers explained that, notwithstanding their artificial appearance, these stones were formed by the cutting action 
of the wind-driven sand as it passed to and fro over an exposed boulder bank. He gave a minute account of the manner 
in which the varieties of form are produced, and referred to the effect which the erosive action thus indicated would have on 
railway and other works executed on sandy tracts. 

“ Dr. Hector stated that although, as a group, the specimens on the table could not well be mistaken for artificial pro¬ 
ductions, still the forms are so peculiar, and the edges, in a few of them, so perfect, that if they were discovered associated 
with human works, there is no doubt that they would have been referred to the so-called ‘ stone-period.’ "—Extracted from 
the Minutes of the Wellington Philosophical Society, Feb. 9, 1869. 




82 


NIAGARA FALLS: PAST AND FUTURE. 


the particle, such substances practically destroy the local erosive power. The hand can bear without 
inconvenience a sand-shower which would pulverize glass. Etchings executed on glass with suitable 
kinds of ink are accurately worked out by the sand-blast. In fact, within certain limits, the harder 
the surface, the greater is the concentration of the shock, and the more effectual is the erosion. It 
is not necessary that the sand should be the harder substance of the two ; corundum, for example, 
is much harder than quartz ; still, quartz-sand can not only depolish, but actually blow a hole through 
a plate of corundum. Nay, glass may be depolished by the impact of fine shot ; the grains in this 
case bruising the glass before they have time to flatten and turn their energy into heat. 

And here, in passing, we may tie together one or two apparently unrelated facts. Supposing you 
turn on, at the lower part of a house, a cock which is fed by a pipe from a cistern at the top of the 
house, a column of water, from the cistern downwards, is set in motion. By turning off the cock, 
this motion is stopped ; and when the turning off is very sudden, the pipe, if not strong, may be 
burst by the internal impact of the water. By distributing the turning of the cock over half a second 
of time, the shock and danger of rupture may be entirely avoided. We have here an example of 
the concentration of energy in time. The sand-blast illustrates the concentration of energy in space. 
The action of flint and steel is an illustration of the same principle. The heat required to generate 
the spark is intense, and the mechanical action being moderate, must, to produce fire, be in the 
highest degree concentrated. This concentration is secured by the collision of hard substances. 
Calc-spar will not supply the place of flint, nor lead the place of steel in the production of fire by 
collision. With the softer substances, the total heat produced may be greater than with the hard 
ones ; but to produce the spark, the heat must be intensely localized. 

But we can go far beyond the mere depolishing of glass ; indeed, I have already said that quartz 
sand can wear a hole through corundum. This leads me to express my acknowledgments to Gen. 
Tilghman, who is the inventor of the sand-blast. To his spontaneous kindness I am indebted for 
some beautiful illustrations of his process. In one thick plate of glass a figure has been worked out 
to a depth of three-eighths of an inch. A second plate seven-eighths of an inch thick is entirely 
perforated. Through a circular plate of marble, nearly half an inch thick, open work of the most 
intricate and elaborate description has been executed. It would probably take many days to per¬ 
form this work by any ordinary process ; with the sand-blast it was accomplished in an hour. So 
much for the strength of the blast ; its delicacy is illustrated by a beautiful example of line engrav¬ 
ing, etched on glass by means of the blast. 

This power of erosion, so strikingly displayed when sand is urged by air, renders us better able 
to conceive its action when urged by water. The erosive power of a river is vastly augmented by 
the solid matter carried along with it. Sand or pebbles caught in a river vortex can wear away the 
hardest rock; “pot-holes” and deep cylindrical shafts being thus produced. An extraordinary in¬ 
stance of this kind of erosion is to be seen in the Val Tournanche, above the village of this name. 
The gorge at Handeck has been thus cut out. Such waterfalls were once frequent in the valleys 
of Switzerland ; for hardly any valley is without one or more, transverse barriers of resisting ma¬ 
terial, over which the river flowing through the valley once fell as a cataract. Near Pontresina in 
the Engadin, there is such a case, the hard gneiss being now worn away to form a gorge through 
which the river from the Morteratsch glacier rushes. The barrier of the Kirchet above Meyringen 
is also a case in point. Behind it was a lake, derived from the glacier of the Aar, and over the bar¬ 
rier the lake poured its excess of water. Here the roqk being limestone was in great part dissolved, 
but added to this we had the action of the solid particles carried along by the water, each of which, 
as it struck the rock, chipped it away like the particles of the sand-blast. Thus by solution and 
mechanical erosion the great chasm of the Fensteraar-Schlucht was formed. It is demonstrable 
that the water which flows at the bottoms of such deep fissures once flowed at the level of what is 
now their edges, and tumbled down the lower faces of the barriers. Almost every valley in Switzer¬ 
land furnishes examples of this kind ; the untenable hypothesis of earthquakes, once so readily 
resorted to in accounting for these gorges, being now for the most part abandoned. To produce the 
Canons of Western America no other cause is needed than the integration of effects individually 
infinitesimal. 

And now we come to Niagara. Soon after Europeans had taken possession of the country, the 
conviction appears to have arisen that the deep channel of the river Niagara below the falls had 
been excavated by the cataract. In Mr. Bakewell’s “ Introduction to Geology,” the prevalence of 
this belief has been referred to ; it is expressed thus by Prof. Joseph Henry in the Transactions of 


pip: 





A NIGHT VIEW OF NIAGARA IN OLDEN TIME. 























































































































































































































84 


NIAGARA FALLS: PAST AND FUTURE. 


the Albany Institute : “ In viewing the position of the falls and the features of the country round, 
it is impossible not to be impressed with the idea that this great natural raceway has been formed 
by the continued action of the irresistible Niagara, and that the falls, beginning at Lewiston, have, 
in the course of ages, worn back the rocky strata to their present site.” The same view is advocated 
by Sir Charles Lyell, by Mr. Hall, by M. Agassiz, by Prof. Ramsay, indeed by almost all of those 
who have inspected the place. 

A connected image of the origin and progress of the cataract is easily obtained. Walking north¬ 
ward from the village of Niagara Falls by the side of the river, we have to our left the deep and 
comparatively narrow gorge through which the Niagara flows. The bounding cliffs of this gorge are 
from 300 to 350 feet high. We reach the whirlpool, trend to the northeast, and after a little time 
gradually resume our northward course. Finally, at about seven miles from the present Falls, we 
come to the edge of a declivity which informs us that we have been hitherto walking on table-land. 
Some hundreds of feet below us is a comparatively level plain, which stretches to Lake Ontario. 
The declivity marks the end of the precipitous gorge of the Niagara. Here the river escapes from 
its steep mural boundaries, and in a widened bed pursues its way to the lake which finally receives 
its waters. 

The fact that in historic times, even within the memory of man, the fall has sensibly receded, 
prompts the question, how far has this recession gone ? At what point did the ledge which thus 
continually creeps backwards begin its retrograde course ? To minds disciplined in such researches 
the answer has been and will be, at the precipitous declivity which crossed the Niagara from Lewis¬ 
ton on the American to Queenston on the Canadian side. Over this transverse barrier the united 
affluents of all the upper lakes once poured their waters, and here the work of erosion began. The 
dam, moreover, was demonstrably of sufficient height to cause the river above it to submerge Goat 
Island; and this would perfectly account for the finding by Mr. Hall, Sir Charles Lyell, and others, 
in the sand and gravel of the island, the same fluviatile shells as are now found in the Niagara river 
higher up. It would also account for those deposits along the sides of the river, the discovery of 
which enabled Lyell, Hall, and Ramsay to reduce to demonstration the popular belief that the 
Niagara once flowed through a shallow valley. 

The physics of the problem of excavation, which I made clear to my mind before quitting 
Niagara, are revealed by a close inspection of the present Horse-shoe Fall. Here we see evidently 
that the greatest weight of water bends over the very apex of the Horse-shoe. In a passage in his 
excellent chapter on Niagara Falls, Mr. Hall alludes to this fact. Here we have the most copious 
and the most violent whirling of the shattered liquid; here the most powerful eddies recoil against 
the shale. From this portion of the fall, indeed, the spray sometimes rises without solution of con¬ 
tinuity to the region of clouds, becoming gradually more attenuated, and passing finally through the 
condition of true cloud into invisible vapor, which is sometimes reprecipitated higher up. All the 
phenomena point distinctly to the centre of the river as the place of greatest mechanical energy, 
and from the centre the vigor of the Fall gradually dies away towards the sides. The horse-shoe 
form, with the concavity facing downwards, is an obvious and necessary consequence of this action. 
Right along the middle of the river the apex of the curve pushes its way backwards, cutting along 
the centre a deep and comparatively narrow groove, and draining the. sides as it passes them. Hence 
the remarkable discrepancy between the widths of the Niagara above and below the Horse-shoe. 
All along its course, from Lewiston Heights to 4 s present position, the form of the Fall was probably 
that of a horse-shoe ; for this is merely the expression of the greater depth, and consequently greater 
excavating power, of the centre of the river. The gorge, moreover, varies in width as the depth of 
the centre of the ancient river varied, being narrowest where that depth was greatest. 

The vast comparative erosive energy of the Horse-shoe Fall comes strikingly into view when it 
and the American Fall are compared together. The American branch of the upper river is cut at a 
right angle by the gorge of the Niagara. Here the Horse-shoe Fall was the real excavator. It cut the 
rock and formed the precipice over which the American Fall tumbles. But since its formation, the 
erosive action of the American Fall has been almost nil, while the Horse-shoe has cut its way for 
five hundred yards across the end of Goat Island, and is now doubling back to excavate a channel 
parallel to the length of the island. This point, I have just learned, has not escaped the acute ob¬ 
servation of Prof. Ramsay.* The river bends ; the Horse-shoe immediately accommodates itself to 

* His words are :—“Where the body of water is small in the American Fall, the edge has only receded a few yards 


SABBATH-DAY POINT\ LAKE GEORGE. 


85 


\ 

the bending, and will follow implicitly the direction of the deepest water in the upper stream. The 
flexibility of the gorge, if I may use the term, is determined by the flexibility of the river channel 
above it. Were the Niagara above the Fall sinuous, the gorge would obediently follow its sinuosities. 
Once suggested, no doubt geographers will be able to point out many examples of this action. The 
Zambesi is thought to present a great difficulty to the erosion theory, because of the sinuosity of 
the chasm below the Victoria Falls. But assuming the basalt to be of tolerably uniform texture, 
had the river been examined before the formation of this sinuous channel, the present zigzag course 
of the gorge below the Fall could, I am persuaded, have been predicted, while the sounding of the 
present river would enable us to predict the course to be pursued by the erosion in the future. 

But not only has the Niagara river cut the gorge ; it has carried away the chips of its own work¬ 
shop. The shale being probably crumbled is easily carried away. But at the base of the fall we 
find the huge boulders already described, and by some means or other these are removed down the 
river. The ice which fills the gorge in winter, and which grapples with the boulders, has been 
regarded as the transporting agent. Probably it is so to some extent. But erosion acts without 
ceasing on the abutting points of the boulders, thus withdrawing their support and urging them 
gradually down the river. Solution also does its portion of the work. That solid matter is carried 
down is proved by the difference of depth between the Niagara river and Lake Ontario, where the 
river enters it. The depth falls from seventy-two feet to twenty feet, in consequence of the deposi¬ 
tion of solid matter caused by the diminished motion of the river.* 

In conclusion, we may say a word regarding the proximate future of Niagara. At the rate of 
exfcavation assigned to it by Sir Charles Lyell, namely, a foot a year, five thousand years or so will 
carry the Horse-shoe Fall far higher than Goat Island. As the gorge recedes it will drain, as it has 
hitherto done, the banks right and left of it, thus leaving a nearly level terrace between Goat Island 
and the edge of the gorge. Higher up it will totally drain the American branch of the river; the 
channel of which in due time will become cultivable land. The American Fall will then be trans¬ 
formed into a dry precipice, forming a simple continuation of the cliffy boundary of the Niagara. At 
the place occupied by the fall at this moment we shall have the gorge enclosing a right angle, a 
second whirlpool being the consequence of this. To those who visit Niagara a few millenniums 
hence I leave the verification of this prediction. All that can be said is, that if the causes now in 
action continue to act, it will prove itself literally true. 


SABBATH-DAY POINT, LAKE GEORGE. 


O N the western shore of Lake George there is a promontory that is famous in the history of the 
French and Indian warfare, and in the annals of the Indians themselves. It was here that in 
July, 1756, Lieutenant Corbierie, with a force of fifty Canadians and three hundred Ottawas, lay in 
ambush. A day and a night they remained on the watch in their bark canoes waiting for the ap¬ 
proach of a body of English troops. At break of day they espied their adversaries, numbering some 
three hundred, drawing nigh in twenty-two barges, in which they had embarked from Fort William 
Henry the night before. The engagement was entered into with vigor and resolution on both sides, 
but the French and Indians soon discovered that they could gain no advantage unless they boarded 
the English boats. The many massacres which had been perpetrated by the savage allies of the 
French had made them a terror to the English soldiers, and when the latter saw them approach to 
close quarters, they became panic-stricken, and pulled towards the bank as fast as possible. Some 
of them even leaped into the water thinking to escape by swimming ashore ; but it was all in vain. 
The clumsy boats could not outspeed the canoes, and the English were soon overtaken. In the 
first part of the conflict all that were captured were massacred without mercy, but at length the 
Indians began to take prisoners. The number of captives amounted to one hundred and fifty-seven, 


(where most eroded) during the time that the Canadian Fall has receded from the north corner of Goat Island to the inner¬ 
most curve of the Horse-shoe Fall .”—Quarterly Journal of Geological Society , May, 1859. 

* Near the mouth of the gorge at Queenston, the depth, according to the Admiralty Chart, is 180 feet; well within the 
gorge it is 132 feet. 




SABBATH-DAY PO ITST T 





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE ERIE CANAL. 


8 7 


one hundred and thirty-one having been killed—twelve only escaping. On the French side, there 
was no loss at all, and of the Indians one only was slightly wounded. 

At night, the Indians having imbibed large quantities of ardent spirits, became blood-thirsty, and 
roasted and ate several of their prisoners. A French officer named Roubard, whose tent was placed 
in the middle of the encampment of the Ottawas, says that the first object which met his eyes on 
arriving there, was a large fire. Near it were wooden spits fixed in the earth to which was fastened 
the body of an Englishman. The skin was stripped off, and more than one-half of the flesh was 
gone, and a few moments later he saw the savages eat of the remaining flesh with avidity. Close at 
hand they had meantime tied ten of the prisoners as spectators of the scene. 

Two years later Sabbath-Day Point witnessed the encampment of the greatest expedition ever sent 
against the French and Canadians. The army comprised 6,350 regulars and 9,000 provincials. The 
fleet consisted of nine hundred bateaux, one hundred and thirty-five whale-boats, numerous rafts for 
the transportation of the artillery, and two towers highly decorated, each with two mounted cannon. 
They landed at Sabbath-Day Point on a Sunday—from which incident the place derived its present 
name. Montcalm was in command at Ticonderoga, and on the day of the landing sent Capt. De 
Trepezec, with a detachment of three hundred men to prevent the disembarcation, if possible. The 
attempt was unsuccessful, however, and only fifty or sixty of the French escaped; De Trepezec 
being himself mortally wounded. The English loss was only twenty-two, but it included Lord Howe, 
an officer who was much beloved. 

The following day a battalion of Americans advanced to a post within two miles of Fort Ticon¬ 
deroga, and the remainder of the army followed them the same night. In the morning it was deter¬ 
mined to attempt to carry the fort by storm. The French had fortified it in every way possible, and 
had, in addition, felled oak-trees for nearly a hundred yards in front of the lines, their branches 
sharpened and pointing outward. At one o’clock the order was given to attack, and the provincials 
marched up to the works, received the fire, and then turned aside to make way for the regulars. The 
troops moved on through the swamps and underbrush, and strove to force the impenetrable barri¬ 
cade. A few Highlanders reached the breast-works, but were .instantly slain by the enemy’s bayo¬ 
nets. All day long the assault was maintained, but in the evening the English were compelled to 
abandon the field, leaving their dead and disabled behind them. The number of killed and wounded 
was 1,942. The following day the army re-embarked and returned to Fort William Henry, and the 
great Abercrombie expedition was at an end. 



THE ERIE CANAL. 



HE project of digging a canal that would extend to Lake Erie, had been agitated without sub- 


JL stantial success at various times previous to 1815. During the latter part of that year, at a 
public meeting a committee was selected to memorialize the Legislature on the subject. This duty 
was performed by their chairman, De Witt Clinton, who prepared what is known as the New York 
Memorial, in which the practicability and advantages of the projected canal were set forth so clearly 
and forcibly that the opposition to the scheme fell into a minority. Petitions were presented, signed 
by thousands of citizens throughout the State, praying for an appropriation for the work, and, finally, 
the Legislature made an appropriation. A Canal Fund was established, special taxes were levied, 
and the work was commenced. 

On the 4th of July, 1817, the first spadeful of earth was removed from the surveyed route amid 
the acclamations of a large concourse of persons, who, says one of the chronicles of the day, 
“ exulted in the past, enjoyed the present, and anticipated the future.” From that time the work pro¬ 
gressed rapidly, although it still met with considerable opposition. Governor Clinton was its most 
devoted friend, and eloquently expatiated on the advantages which agriculture, manufactures, and 
commerce would derive from it. Indeed, so persistent were his efforts in its behalf, that the canal 
is still known by the alias of “ Clinton’s Ditch.” 

The western and last section was completed in 1825, eight years after the beginning of the work, 
and the success of the undertaking was announced by the firing of cannon all along the route. And 



88 


THE ERIE CANAL. 


in truth it was a success of which its projectors had reason to be proud. They had constructed an 
artificial stream three hundred and sixty-three miles long, forty feet wide on the surface, twenty- 
eight feet at the bottom, and four feet deep, containing eighty-three locks, built of massive stone, of 
which the chambers are ninety by fifteen feet, and capable of containing boats of more than a hun¬ 
dred tons burden. The difficulties that had been overcome on the eastern section of the canal in 
the neighborhood of Little Falls, were the most formidable of all. In speaking of this section the 
Canal Commissioners, after pointing proudly to the fact that American skill had done in eighty days 
what a foreign engineer had estimated would require several years, say : “ None but those who had 
examined the line previous to the commencement of the work—who had seen the rude and undu¬ 
lating surface which is traversed—the rocks which were to be blasted—the swamps and quicksands 
which were to be made impervious to water—and, in short, the huge masses of rough materials 
which with uncommon labor were reduced to symmetry and form, can duly appreciate the efforts 
which it has required to surmount these serious difficulties.” And, in conclusion, they say that “had 
this portion of the work been begun originally, while their information respecting the construction 
of canals was only theoretical, the attempt would have defeated, or at least postponed for a century, 
the accomplishment of the great work of internal improvement.” 



Grain-Boat on the Erie Canal. 


The difficulties that met the engineers at Lockport—the canal-boats here enter successively five 
locks, built of solid masonry, which lift the heavy boat, with its two hundred tons of cargo, seventy- 
five feet in a few minutes—were also of no ordinary kind. They had to cut through three miles of 
stone, 'and build the immense locks, which gave the town its name, in the face of numerous and seri¬ 
ous obstacles. But they persevered notwithstanding all discouragements ; and, at last, the work was 
completed. Then came a season of rejoicing that has not been equalled in the history of the State. 
The Governor, in the company of prominent officials, and with many distinguished citizens, traversed 
the canal, starting from Buffalo, the party being conveyed in a fleet of canal-boats, drawn by gayly- 
caparisoned horses. Along their whole route they received one continual ovation, at every town the 
municipal authorities being on hand to welcome them and to exchange congratulations. The news¬ 
papers of the day teemed with accounts of the ceremonies. The festivities lasted ten days, and 
were participated in by nearly the whole population of the State. The wildest and most extravagant 
prophecies were made respecting the vast wealth the canal would attract to New York city. The 
whole of the West would send their grain products over its waters. Other States would follow the 
example of New York, and would build tributaries to the great Erie canal. Governor Clinton 
poured some of the water of Lake Erie into the Atlantic Ocean to commemorate the communication 
which had been established between them, and the Common Council of the city of New York 
published a huge memorial of the ceremonies attending the final celebration. 

That to-day with long freight-trains rolling daily over the track of the New York Central Rail¬ 
way, almost side by side with the canal, it should still be a very important aid to freight transporta- 
















THE ERIE CANAL. 


89 


tion, shows that the enthusiasts of fifty years ago were not altogether wrong as to its importance. 
When the Spring thaw sets in, and navigation suspended during the Winter is resumed, thousands 
and thousands of men obtain employment in various capacities on the many boats ; and there is 
reason to believe that the freight business of the Canal may yet increase immensely. It has been 
estimated that the total amount of freight transported from the cereal-producing States of the West to 
the Atlantic sea-board approximates ten millions of tons annually. Of this the Erie Canal carries alone 
three millions of tons, notwithstanding the fact that the Canal is only open for six months, and that 
its great rivals, the New York Central Railroad, the Pennsylvania Railroad, and the Baltimore and 
Ohio Railroad, are in operation the year round. Exclusive of its branches the Erie Canal, from 
Buffalo to Albany, is 320 miles long, and about 28,000 men and boys are employed in various capaci¬ 
ties in operating the boats during the season, and the number of horses and mules used for towing 
is about 16,000. In the busy season nearly a hundred and fifty boats reach tide-water through the 
Erie Canal daily, each boat containing more cargo, according to an eminent engineer, than the 
average railroad train, or more in the aggregate than twenty miles of railroad trains could carry. Yet 
it has well been said that while the plodding canal-boat attracts no attention, the railroad train 
creates a sensation in every village through which it passes. Standing in the roadway or sweet 
meadow land, attention never rests upon the boat that is gliding through the narrow inland water¬ 
way ; the extent of the system is rarely dreamed of, so methodical and unobtrusive is it; but should 
a delay occur at one of the locks, in twenty-four hours hundreds of boats would accumulate, with as 
much grain on board as would feed a nation for at least one day. 

A recent writer in Harpers Magazine gives a vivid description of the habits of those engaged 
in this traffic : “ There is a vivid charm about all migratory people, and in vagabond adventure and 
vagabond life we find the breadth and color which elevate the commonplace into the romantic. The 
changing scenes and multifarious experiences stimulate the memory, quicken the eye, and loosen 
the tongue. Among those whose vagabondage is a necessity, and valuable commercially, are the 
canal-boat men. In their vessels they have their homes, their wives, and their children. While 
they are moving toward the sea-board or to the West, babies are born to them, children are schooled, 
and young men and women are married. A few own homes on shore, and do not allow their wives 
to accompany them, but most of them have been brought up in a cabin less spacious than a tent. 
They are cleanly and moral ; the common schools have had no uses for them; but in wandering 
from hamlet to hamlet and city to city, they have acquired singularly varied knowledge, and habits 
at once creditable to themselves and interesting to the observer.” 

Of the life on board the boats and the scenes to be viewed from them, he further remarks: 
“ From the windows of some cabins floods of hospitable light poured, revealing domestic groups at 
supper, reading and sewing; with the voices of men and women mingled the soft, swelling tones of 
a parlor organ, and the less musical clicking of several sewing-machines. Contentment and tran¬ 
quillity rested upon these water-homes, a gentle spirit pervaded them, and though they were ever 
moving, the bonds within seemed permanent and strong. There was no riotous conduct, little loud 
talking, scarcely anything stirring but the water rippling about the stern. The inexpressibly deli¬ 
cate outlines of the river banks, and the unclouded, infinite vault above, spread their influence over 
the good and bad, the rough and gentle, of the cortege alike. Mothers were hushing their children 
to sleep on some decks, and to complete the picture there loomed in evening light a young boatman 
bending over the side of his own craft to clasp the hand of his sweetheart on another. Shrewd with 
strangers, among themselves these people are simple and generous. Our captain’s two daughters 
were his idols, and of his plans to give them pleasure there was no end. The tough old gentleman 
was little addicted to profitless day-dreaming, but in speaking of his girls his vision expanded and 
elevated him to the region of the idealist. At sunset on our second evening out, as the sky was 
lost in seas of golden light, he stood, drawn to his fullest height, on the roof of the cabin, with his 
head uncovered, and, while his profile was stamped in clear relief on the glowing expanse, he ten¬ 
derly spoke to his wife and us, seated below, of the bright future he intended his eldest daughter 
should have. Unconsciously his attitude and words expressed the glory of paternal affection, and 
the wisdom and far-looking thoughts which spring from it.” 

“ The purest democracy exists among boatmen ; obedience is necessarily exacted, but other¬ 
wise employees have little reverence in the treatment of their superiors. They eat at the same 
table, and are waited on by the captain’s wife. While the captain was dozing on deck one of his 
men would coolly take his pipe out of his mouth, and use it himself. His stories were openly winked 



f 


BLUFF ON THE ERIE CANAL, NEAR LITTLE 




















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE ERIE CANAL. 


9i 


at, and his manner of calking his own deck loudly depreciated in his presence. All was borne with 
toleration, and retorted to with somewhat uncouth wit but with good-will. Profanity, by-the-bye, is 
the commonest sin of the boatmen, and they blaspheme in cold blood, without the enthusiasm or 
scientific precision of the sailor, and without the idiomatic richness of the Californian.” 

“ Before nightfall we had more glimpses of perfect rural scenery: level miles of velvet-like turf, 
in superb condition, bounded by hills of the gentlest contours; fields of strong young grain curling 
and singing at the touch of the evening breeze ; neat homes hedged in with greenery ; and paths 
winding toward lovely villages in the hazy distance. The landscape is too calm to be distinctively 
American : it is not rugged, and the colors have little body. Wells of light seem hidden in the 
foliage, and stream out at every crevice; it is surely the land of an olden country. 

“ Night on the canal has the enchantment and mystery of the night upon the ocean. Cool 
breezes sweep over us, and if the horizon is interrupted at all, it is by the graceful lines of some hill 
that holds the resplendent tints of the declining sun, and lends nobility to the prospect. As the 
stars gleam out, myriads of fire-flies imitate them on either bank, and flash across the calm surface 
of the stream. Each boat carries a brilliant lantern in the bow, which disperses a circle of yellow 
light on the watery track ahead. The tow-lines dip occasionally with a musical thrill into the water, 
and in advance you may hear the steady thud of the horses’ hoofs on the ground, or the low cry of 
the driver as he urges them forward. At the stern the helmsman is singing in a plaintive measure, 
until a lock engages him. His voice is then deepened. * Lock be-l-o-o-w ! ’ he calls to his mate ; 

‘ Ste-a-dy, ste-a-a-dy ! ’ to tfye driver. There is a momentary clatter of feet upon the deck : we rise 
smoothly to the new level; the lock lights fade ; quiet again, and we are traveling with the softness 
of a dream toward the amber morning.” 

The passage of the Canal near Little Falls, of which we give an illustration, under the lofty bluff 
which springs at this place from the edge of the Mohawk, is one of the most beautiful of the many 
beautiful features disclosed to the voyager on this great outlet of the West. No traveler sees a 
greater variety of fine objects within the same distance than the follower of the Canal from Schenec¬ 
tady to Buffalo. 

For a long time the introduction of steam on the Canal has been a problem over which many 
minds have cogitated. The agitation for cheap transportation which has of late convulsed the West, 
taken in connection with the bids that other Atlantic cities are making to become the entrepot for 
the shipment of its productions, has directed much attention to this subject. The difficulty has 
never been merely in the use of steam, for propelling boats, but in the necessity for competing with 
horse-power in point of economy, and for preventing the waves from washing the banks of the Canal. 
The State offered a large reward for the invention of a steam-engine that would meet these two 
obstacles, and in a competitive trial during the Fall of 1873, Mr. Wm. Baxter was awarded the first 
prize. The official record of the trial trip marks the speed of the Baxter boat at 3 -j-fo miles per hour 
with a consumption of I4i% pounds of coal per mile, while carrying a load of more than 200 tons 
in addition to her machinery and fuel. It was estimated by the Commissioners of Award that the 
adoption of the Baxter boat on the Canal would result in an annual saving of $4,000,000, since 
freight can be carried at twice the speed for one-half the cost of horse-boats. This is considered a 
solution of the problem of steam canal-boats, and vastly enhances the importance of the Canal as a 
part of our system of internal improvements. 

The cities of Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, Utica, Rome, Schenectady, and Albany, are on the 
Erie Canal, and almost entirely by its means is the transportation of heavy freight and grain between 
these cities and the smaller towns on the line accomplished. One of these long, low and narrow 
canal-boats will contain from one to two hundred tons of freight ; they are built mainly with a view 
to strength, and owe their peculiar shape to the small width of the canal. Syracuse is one of the 
principal towns on the Erie Canal. For many years it has been largely engaged in the manufacture 
of salt, and the Canal has greatly helped the commercial prosperity of the city in furnishing a cheap 
medium for the transportation of its staple. The salt-works at Syracuse are comparatively exten¬ 
sive, and the shipments from them are very large. Buffalo, which is now a large city, was not 
much more than a village at the opening of the Canal in 1825. Rochester, Utica, and Syracuse were 
insignificant country places, while a host of the minor towns that now lie on its banks were not in 
existence. It may, in truth, be safely said that to the Erie Canal New York owes much of the 
wealth and prosperity which she to-day enjoys. 


92 


IN THE A DIR ONE A CKS. 


IN THE ADIRONDACKS. 


T HE Adirondack wilderness has of late become a favorite resort, owing to its proximity to 
settled communities and its many attractions to the sportsman and tourist. The Adirondack 
region or North Woods, as it is often called, lies between Lakes George and Champlain on the 
east, and the St. Lawrence river on the north and west. Its area is about equal to that of the' 
State of Connecticut. It reaches northward to the boundaries of Canada, and southward to Boone- 
ville. The southern part, known as “Brown’s Tract,” is the least interesting. It lacks the wild 
landscapes, the numerous lakes, and the lofty mountains of the northern countries, and is tame in 
comparison. The real wilderness, above the Raquette river, is as primitive and natural as can be 
imagined. The forests are immense and imposing in their solitude. The axe of the lumberman 
has made no inroads upon them, and therefore, the vestiges of deserted lumber camps do not, as in 
the Maine forests, interfere with the picturesqueness of the landscape. The air is clear and bracing, 
and at all times free from malaria. An artist who has traveled all over Switzerland, and through the 
Rhine and Rhone regions, says that he has nowhere found scenery which, judged from a purely 
artistic point of view, combines so many beauties with so much grandeur. It is estimated that 
a thousand lakelets, many yet unvisited, are walled in by these vast forests of pine and hemlock. 
The Rev. W. H. H. Murray, to whose enthusiastic descriptions the Adirondacks owe much of their 
recently acquired celebrity, counted, from the summit of a mountain, forty-four with the naked eye. 

This region has been called the “ Sportsman’s Paradise,” from the fact that most of the sporting 
can be done from a boat, the whole country being intersected by a chain, or to speak more correctly, 
by a system of lakes. It is not necessary to undergo long and tiresome tramps through under¬ 
growth and brambles, over swamps and morasses, with drooping branches to flap in your face, carry 
off your hat, or otherwise try your patience : but you glide along the quiet waters of the lakes, or 
paddle along the windings of the rivers, overhung by the outlying pines, and fringed with water-lilies 
that mingle their fragrance with the clear mountain air. You save your strength and your temper 
—and these are very important considerations to amateur sporting-men, whose chief aim is health, 
recreation, and amusement. 

A guide is indispensable on a trip into the wilderness, and much of the tourist’s pleasure depends 
upon the man he chooses. So many people now make annual excursions to the Adirondacks that, 
in the height of the season, a good guide is difficult to obtain. To those who wish to camp out, 
the necessary provisions are salt, coffee, sugar, condensed milk, &c. ; enough venison and trout 
can be obtained in the wilderness to satisfy all wants. The favorite season for these excursions 
is midsummer. The snow has then melted from the mountains, and the climate is dry and delight¬ 
ful, the thermometer ranging between seventy and eighty degrees : the water is not very high, and 
the portages are in good condition. 

Game of the larger kind is plenty. The woods are so unfrequented that the deer have not yet 
been driven away, but they are no longer to be seen in droves. Trout are plenty everywhere, and 
at times the water seems almost alive with them. It is also said that amid impenetrable jungles in 
the most secluded districts more dangerous inhabitants are still established in their hidden lairs : 
but the only evidence of the panther having frequented these mountains must be looked for in the 
stories with which the guides beguile away the hours spent around the camp-fire. Black bears and 
wolves are still numerous in certain districts, but they appear to have concluded a permanent truce 
with visitors, and are rarely seen on the banks of the lakes, even during the depth of winter, and 
their chief object seems to be to escape observation and molestation. 

The extraordinary number of mountains (it is said that not less than two hundred distinct peaks 
can be counted) are the true glory of this region. To quote the imagery of an accomplished writer 
to whose work we are indebted for much information, “ they are so compacted that their bases some¬ 
times touch. So wildly disjointed and irregular is the system of mountains, it stands as though an 
ocean tossed by tempest had been suddenly congealed, and these strange heights had in ages follow¬ 
ing become clothed and in their right mind.” Many of the passes between these mountains have 
been only partially explored, but if the present yearly accession to the ranks of the tourists who visit 
this region continues, the spirit of inquiry and adventure thereby necessarily engendered will doubt¬ 
less cause some of these passes to become as famous as certain portions of Switzerland. 



IN THE WILDS 




















































































































94 


IN THE ADIRONDACKS. 


From the graphic description of his trip on the lakes given by S. I. Prime in his admirable book, 
Under the Trees , we subjoin the following. Mr. Prime started from Paul Smith’s Hotel, passed 
through Spitfire Lake, and then, after traversing a narrow passage, reached St. Regis Lake, the 
upper. “ This is nearly on the summit of the lake region, 1,500 or 2,000 feet above the sea, its waters 
flowing off to the north, and the lakes into which we are soon to come discharging themselves east¬ 
ward, and then northeasterly into Lake Champlain. A sense of exquisite beauty filled me as the 
skiff glided gracefully into the midst of this lovely sheet of water. The sun was now well up in the 
blue, cloudless sky. Many isles lay around on the bosom of the lake. They and the shores were 
covered with dense pine and spruce trees. The water was like a polished mirror of steel. The 
islands were reflected. So was the heaven above me. Sometimes over the forest shores the dis¬ 
tant ranges of mountains told me there was a world beyond and out of the limits of the bowl in 
which I was floating. But the lake seemed as a little sea of glass, clear as crystal, brilliant in the 
sun, skirted with living green, evergreen, and the feeling of the place was that of perfect isolation 
from ‘ the world and the rest of mankind.’ During all the tour of these and three or four lakes yet 
to be mentioned, I did not see a boat or the face of a man, or anything to intimate that one had ever 
entered this charming desert before. No voice, no gun, no bark of a dog in the all-surrounding 
forest disturbed the deep serenity of the scene. Now and then the scream of a loon, fearfully like that 
of a human cry, would pierce the ear and increase the stillness as it ceased. But for my guide, who 
happily was stupid and said nothing, I was the only man there. It was a natural paradise, and I was 
as solitary as Adam before Eve appeared. Charles V. said of the cathedral of Burgos, such was its 
beauty, it should be put under a glass case and kept for show. It was almost painful to me that the 
loveliness of this scene is lost to the world. Why is such a waste of glory here ? The sun shines 
on nothing more charming to behold. Here it lies, and the summer dies away into winter ; and 
then the spring clothes it with resurrection beauty again. Perhaps the angels see it. But why was 
so much glory spilled where so few mortals, out of millions, ever see it ? 

“ We touched the southern shore of the lake and stood in the margin of a dense forest, appar¬ 
ently impenetrable, certainly gloomy, damp, and cold. Out of the thicket emerged an old man, in 
many-colored and patched raiment, with long and matted beard and hair, who was not far above his 
companions of the woods, and this queer old fellow had with him a horse and a sled. Without 
words, for his business was understood by the guide, who knew where to meet him, the little boat 
was pulled out of the water and hoisted upon the sled, and we three trudged behind it as the beast 
drew it along over the damp, swampy way that had been made for this purpose. This is called a 
‘ carry.’ The old ferryman proved to be a character, a Frenchman, whose first name was Moses. 

“ At the door of the cabin of Moses the Trapper we embarked on Big Clear Pond, a round lake, 
with no islands in it, and four miles in diameter. The wind had now risen, and as the little skiff 
danced about merrily, my dull guide sought to entertain me with narrow escapes he had made on 
former excursions, when he had ladies for passengers, who had been frightened greatly on this very 
lake, which has a fine sweep for the wind, and easily makes a great swell.” 

Of the Upper Saranac Mr. Prime says : “ This is the queen of the lakes. It is nine miles long, 
with irregular shores, wooded points putting out and making lovely nooks and bays, with frequent 
isles floating, as it were, on the surface. Some of these islands have traditions hanging around 
them, and one of them will be pointed out for years to come as the scene of a tragical event that 
happened upon it this very season. At the close of a very fine day last spring, a man and his wife 
had rowed out to the island, and were sitting near the shore enjoying the sunset. A gentleman out 
on the lake with his guide and boat espied something white on the island, and the guide insisted 
that it was a loon. The gentleman was not satisfied, but the guide took his rifle and fired, killing 
the woman on the spot. 

“ A map of this wilderness country will show a hundred and more lakes to the west of the one 
we are now passing through, and weeks as easily as days might be spent in going from one to an¬ 
other ; but the journey would become tedious perhaps from sameness. Sweets cloy. This chain of 
lakes is ‘ linked sweetness long drawn out.’ It is a system of lakes, rather than a chain. Raquette 
Lake is the largest of them all, with a shore of ninety miles, and it is 1,800 feet above the sea, and the 
Blue Mountain rises east of it 4,000 feet high, with a lake of the same name at its foot, esteemed 
the Pearl of the Wilderness. Raquette River enters Long Lake, sixteen miles long, and coming 
out of it, is navigable for thirty miles, and then enters Tupper’s Lake, more celebrated for its pic¬ 
turesque beauty than any of the many around it. When the river leaves this lake again, it rolls its 



UPPER AUSABLE LAKE 






























9 6 


IN THE A DIR ON DA CHS. 


augmented volume out of the wilderness into the fertile fields of St. Lawrence County. Thus the 
whole length and breadth of this strange country may be traversed by boats so light as to be easily 
carried on the shoulders of a man.” 

It is apparently a labor of love to describe this region, and this is what the Rev. Murray has to 
say of it: “ If you go in by way of the Saranacs, do not camp down there, as some do, but pass 
over Indian Carry through the Spectacle Lake and Ramshorn Creek (sometimes called Stony 
Creek), into the Raquette river. Then turn up or down, as you please. If you desire to see some 
of the finest scenery imaginable, pass up the Raquette to Long Lake, and when some two miles up 
the lake turn your face to the north, and you will behold what is worth the entire journey to see. 
Then go on and do not camp, until you do so on the southern or western shore of Raquette Lake. 
Here you will find good sporting and scenery unsurpassed. Build here your central camp, and as 
soon as you are established go over to what is called the Wood’s Place, and from the knoll on which 
the house stands, you will see one of the finest water-views in the world. Then visit Terrace Lodge, 
on an island to the front and left. From thence paddle to Beaver Bay, and you will find a point in 
it from which you can arouse a whole family of sleeping echoes along the western ridge and the 
woods opposite. Then go to Constable Point, and quench your thirst in the coolest, sweetest spring 
of pure water, from which you ever drank. Go next to the southern part of the lake, so hidden 
behind the islands that no one would suspect what a lovely sheet of water lay beyond, with its two 
beautiful reaches of softly shining sand, one as white as silver, the other as yellow as gold ; and in 
the waters which lave the golden, you will find the best bathing in the whole wilderness. Do not 
leave this region until you have made an excursion to that Lake George in miniature, Blue Moun¬ 
tain Lake, and fill your mind with an impression which will remain in memory as one of the sweet 
and never-to-be-forgotten recollections of life. When you have retraced your progress up, and 
reached the mouth of Ramshorn Creek, keep on down the Raquette until you have swung round 
to Big Tupper Lake, and stood on the sloping edge over which the outlet of Round Lake and Little 
Tupper pours its full tide in thunder and foam ; and if it be not too late in the season, and you 
know how to use the rod, you will raise, amid the froth and eddies of the falls, some of the largest 
and brightest-looking trout that ever gladdened a sportsman’s eye. Then, if you are robust and full 
of pluck, force your way over the four-mile carry between the falls and Round Lake, and, hurrying 
on through its sluggish waters, do not pause until you enter the narrow secluded stretch of Little 
Tupper. As you pass out, visit the St. Regis waters, by the way of Big Wolf and Rollin’s Pond and 
Long Pine, and so circle down to Martin’s.” 

This would make a trip that would take in all the beauties of the Adirondacks. 

The feat known as “ running the rapids ” is one that has long been practiced by the boatmen of 
Canada and the northern part of the United States. Rapids are so numerous in the smaller of the 
North American streams that if boatmen were compelled to make a circuit of each of them, a voyage 
would be decidedly laborious ; but they use light canoes and cedar shells, many not drawing over 
two inches of water, which are peculiarly adapted to the purpose, and with these they “ run the 
rapids.” The rapids of the Raquette river in the Adirondacks are three miles in length, and so 
turbulent that, until recently, even the experienced guides would not go over them. It is a stretch 
of madly-rushing water, save where, at the foot of some perpendicular fall, there is a “ gool ” stud¬ 
ded with bubbles, and flecked with patches of froth. The river is full of boulders, among which the 
water glides smooth and deep, or it dashes with foaming violence against them. At various places 
the river with great swiftness shoots down steep declivities, and at others pours over perpen¬ 
dicular falls. But these waters were safely run by Mr. Murray, who strapped his rifle, rod, and 
baggage to the bottom and sides of his boat, and prepared everything so that, in case of catastrophe, 
he could swim ashore, and let his baggage follow him. 

Nearly every one, no matter how little of a sportsman he may be, knows that deer traverse the 
native forest through what are called “ runs.” These natural pathways, hardly perceptible to un¬ 
sophisticated city people, are well known to all the hunters and guides, and always lead to water, to 
which the instinct of the deer causes it to fly whenever alarmed. This propensity is a fatal mistake 
where deer-shooting is pursued in the methodical manner which prevails in the Adirondacks : 

“ The brave, hardy, eager gentlemen from New York and other cities are now prepared to go out 
the next morning to renew the chase. They go two or three times a week, and as the hunt is 
attended with great expense, exposure, and fatigue, and many are to share in it, it is just that each 
should have a fair chance to bag the game and glory of the day. The shore of the lake is laid off 



LAKE ST. REGIS, AT 



















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































98 


IN THE A DIR ON DA CKS. 


into sections, and each section has its point of observation. These points are a considerable dis¬ 
tance asunder, and lots are drawn by which the station of each one going to join the hunt is deter¬ 
mined. This allotment is made overnight, that when early morning comes, each brave deer-slayer 
repairs to his post, and with all the patience he may possess awaits the issue. With him, in a light 
boat, is the guide, who rows and knows the spot to which his man is assigned. The boat soon 
reaches the point, and nothing is to be done but to wait, in it or on the shore, as the wary and 
anxious sportsman pleases. Thus the lake is environed with the watchful picket guardsmen. 

“ In the mean time a real huntsman—a paid and experienced man of the woods—enters the 
forest, with a leash of hounds, some six or eight, attached to his belt. Well in, he lets off a dog, 
trained to the service and eager to have a run, who begins at once to run in a circle, widening con¬ 
stantly as he seeks to get upon the trail of a deer. The hunter goes on and lets off another dog, 
and then another, until he has started his whole pack, who, running in circles, scour the whole 
forest, and seldom fail to scare up a buck. The moment the dog strikes the scent he begins to bark, 
and the glad sound meets the distant ears of the waiting watchers on the lake. The deer, alarmed, 
instinctively takes to the water, as the only way to break the trail and deprive the dog of his scent, 
by which he is keeping up the chase. The noble animal rushes through the forest into the lake to 
swim across. He is the prize of the boat nearest..to which he takes the water. The guide rows in 
pursuit of him, and being able to row far more rapidly than the poor beast can swim, has no diffi¬ 
culty in overtaking him. When he has come so near that the merest bungler with a gun, who could 
not hit a barn door across the road, can now put the muzzle of the gun into the ear of the animal, if 
he please, the gallant Nimrod blazes away with his new rifle, lodges the bullet in the brain of the 
beast, and the work is done. If the deer, however, will not keep still long enough to be shot in this 
way, the guide takes him by the tail and holds him while the accomplished sportsman shoots him in 
the head. It sometimes occurs that even then, with the buck thus held by the tail at one end and 
the rifle in the hands of an excited shooter at another, the ball goes all abroad and the game is not 
hurt. Then the guide, with an oar or with his own stalwart arms, manages to get the animal’s head 
under water, and so drowns him. But in the best of the business, it requires the same amount 
of science, skill, valor, and endurance to kill a deer, that it would to go out to the barn and kill the 
cow. Give the cow the run of the yard, and it would be more of a feat to bring her down with a 
rifle than to slay a deer in the Adirondacks.” 

The annoyance from insects is considerable, but even this has been greatly exaggerated. The 
“ black fly,” a small dark-colored fly about the size of a red ant, is plentiful during the earlier months 
of the summer, but disappears in July. Its bite, though annoying, is not poisonous, and abundant 
protection may be found against it. Mosquitoes and gnats are also numerous in some localities, but 
if care is taken in the selection of the camps, they will not be very troublesome. A headland or a 
point over the lake, where the wind is felt, or an island, is the best ground for camping, so far as 
insects are concerned; but under any circumstances it is a trifling drawback to the healthfulness 
and enjoyment of life in the woods. The climate is here so genial and constant, and the air is so 
clear and balmy that even people in the most delicate health may “camp out” without risk. The 
atmosphere is odorous with pine and cedar and balsam, and free from all impurities. Nevertheless, 
the most intelligent opinion is that these solitudes are not good places for those unfortunates to visit 
who are afflicted with consumption: but as a place to recuperate from the insidious diseases that 
arise from a too intense application to sedentary pursuits, this district is generally conceded to be 
without a rival. Those of good physical strength, but worn down with brain work, recruit with a 
rapidity which can only be described as being little short of marvelous. Scarcely any physical exer¬ 
tion is required on the trip. Walking is unnecessary during the hunting, fishing, and sight-seeing, 
all that being done from the boats ; and the visitor is reduced to pedestrianism only when going and 
coming across the “ carries,” which, in the parts most frequented, are generally short, and with few 
exceptions, afford good walking ground. There are some parts, it is true, where no ease-loving 
tourist dare venture—places where the portages are mere swamps, and the boat and traps must be 
dragged or carried, while the hardy adventurer is waist-deep in mud and water. But guides have 
no particular love for such localities, and, unless otherwise expressly directed, will keep at a respect¬ 
ful distance from them. 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 


99 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 



ORMED in the southwestern part of Utah by the union of the Green River with the Grand, 


JL the Colorado rolls southward through a part of Arizona, into the Gulf of California. There 
are few streams in the world which are so extraordinary in their formation, and so singular in their 
history and reputation, or which are characterized by natural scenery at once so peculiar and so 


sublime. 


Although the river, measured from the source of the Green, is nearly two thousand miles long, 
and is the largest American tributary of the Pacific, two causes render it to a great extent un- 
navigable, and will undoubtedly keep it so forever. The first is its excessive decrease in volume 
during the dry season ; the other is the formation of its bed, by which a thousand impassable bar¬ 
riers are presented to the navigator. The stream is marked in many places for long distances by 
a succession of rapids of extraordinary violence and forbidding hazards, and these alternate in end¬ 
less variety with cataracts, whirlpools, and powerful eddies. At one point, the stream has cut its 
way by the wear of ages through a jutting angle of solid rock, and is sucked with irresistible force 
through its new channel; at another, it rushes along a declivity as steep as a house-top with the 
speed of a locomotive. In some places the river is impassable even to the smallest boats; as for 
craft of a greater size, it is altogether useless to think of making any headway with that. Below 
these obstructions there is to the mouth of the river an unimpeded distance of over six hundred 
miles, and this during certain seasons can be traversed by steam ; but when the water has fallen, 
large vessels can get no further than thirty-five miles from the outlet. 

But what is most remarkable about the Colorado and its tributaries, is the extraordinary charac¬ 
ter of its rocky banks—its canons. These impart to it the unparalleled scenery for which it is 
famous, and make it a stream like which there is no other. These canons are over five hundred 
miles long, the Grand Canon being alone over two hundred. 

The canon is a frequent physical feature of the Pacific and southwestern regions of the United 
States. It is simply a deep ravine or gulch—an extended fissure in the earth—and is peculiar only 
in respect to great magnitude and imposing aspect. Canons of enormous depth are found in the 
vicinity of the Rocky Mountains, and some of the greatest are within view of the cars of the 
Overland railroad. But there are certainly none more marvelous, in all respects more profoundly 
impressive, than of the Colorado. 

In these mountain passes the river takes its course between perpendicular banks of solid rock 
that rise to a stupendous height. We seem to be in the very heart of the earth. On the black 
waters flowing between their mighty walls there is profoundest gloom. An unearthly chill, an inex¬ 
plicable dread, seizes upon the adventurous travelers floating on those dark tides. Perhaps the 
silence of the grave is about them, or perhaps to their ears is borne from the mysterious unknown 
ahead, shut out from their view by the cliffs that hem them in, the roar of an untried cataract or a 
tumultuous rapid. As high as they can lift their eyes only the perpendicular face of rock, seamed 
by many varied geological strata ; and straight overhead like a blue ribbon suspended far, far above 
them, a narrow strip of sky. 

From the giddy height above, the spectacle has not less of awful sublimity. Looking down upon 
the stream below, it is like a band of silver barely a foot wide laid along the bottom of the profound 
chasm ; or if at night, with the moon’s rays falling between the rocky walls, the whole abyss may be 
aglow, and a vein of golden splendor seam the earth. 

One of the most impressive of these canons is represented in our illustration. Our two minor 
illustrations give views of Moqui, one of the stone cities of Arizona, inhabited by the Pueblos or 
Moquis Indians. This tribe is by some supposed to be descended from the Aztecs, or from their 
predecessors the Toltecs ; but whatever their origin, their stone towns are certainly unique, and 
like their religious and social customs and their national or, rather, tribal character, are of much 
interest. These towns are built upon commanding eminences overlooking the Colorado River, 
and can be approached only through narrow defiles in the rocks on which they stand. The houses 
are of mud and stone, two and three stories high. They are entered by ladders reaching to the 
second story, and when these temporary stairways are drawn up, as they are made to be, each 
dwelling becomes in truth a castle, and a strong one at that, as was conclusively shown during 


IOO 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 


the Mexican war, it being then found that they were proof against field-artillery. It is supposed that 
their former inhabitants were a quiet, industrious, agricultural people, who built these curious 
dwelling-places for protection against wandering tribes of savages. Traces of their existence are 
found not only along the Colorado, but all over that region, in pottery, fallen houses of stone and 
adobe, and curious hieroglyphics. 

Many of the stone cities are without populations, like many of the stone houses. They are fallen 
and deserted relics of a once numerous people—perhaps of a civilization. Of the seven inhabited 

towns the average population is about three hundred each. Each town has its own chief, and 

is entirely independent of the others; but the people are all well-acquainted with each other, 
associate, and have the same religious faith and social customs. They are peaceable and hospi¬ 
table, though not free from some habits which are natural to the savage the world over. Their 
religious belief is very remarkable, considering their location. Every morning they mount the roofs 
of their houses, and turning eastward, render homage to the rising sun. At the same time a 
number of men, girdled with strings of bells, start off toward the East, and run a mile or so at full 
speed, while their bells fill the air with a wild jingling ; then they return, the people on the house¬ 
tops come down, and the uproar ceases. The reason for this curious usage is a tradition which is 
extant among them, that on some future day Montezuma will come to them from the sun, and 
restore their ancient glory. They, therefore, send out an escort every day to receive him, should 
he happen to make his appearance. Not less singular is their belief that the time of their restora¬ 
tion depends upon the condition of their habitations ; and the sooner the latter have fallen into 

utter natural decay, the sooner will the former arrive. Thus it comes to be a part of their religion 

to let everything go to rack and ruin. They are even said to have refused aid from the United 
States Government. 

One curious legend that is said to be extant among them is related in this wise : “In times long 
past a woman of superior beauty resided among the neighboring mountains. All the men admired 
and paid court to her. She received the tributes of their devotion, grain, skins, etc., but gave no 
favors in return. Her virtue and her determination to remain secluded were equally firm. There 
came a drought which threatened famine. In their distress the people applied to her, and she gave 
them corn from her stock, and the supply seemed to be endless. Her goodness was unbounded. 
One day, as she was lying asleep, a drop of rain fell upon her, and produced conception. A son 
was the issue, who became the founder of the race that built these cities of stone.” In Oribay, one 
of the seven towns, an old woman is still said to be living that has the blood of this marvelous being 
in her veins, and like her progenitor, was once possessed of wonderful beauty. She receives general 
reverence. 

The town of Moqui which is represented in our illustrations, is situated on a cliff that is at least 
fifteen hundred feet high. The top of the cliff is wedge-shaped, half a mile long, and at its widest 
part perhaps two hundred yards across. On the same rock are two others of the stone cities. Water 
is obtained from reservoirs that have been hollowed out in the surface of the rock ; but these are 
sometimes exhausted, and it then becomes necessary to go to the foot of the cliff. 

These strange Indian cities are certainly of sufficient interest to be mentioned even in connec¬ 
tion with the wonderful Colorado. So different are the Moquis in their customs, character, desires, 
and belief from the other Indian tribes of that vicinity, that a totally different origin is almost neces¬ 
sarily inferred. It is true that their descent from the Aztecs or the Toltecs is not fully established, 
but it is certain that in their habitations, in their modes of life, and in their traditions there is much 
to make such a hypothesis probable. And here they live on the bluffs overlooking the Colorado, in 
their decaying cities, a dying people, and the nearer they come to their extinction, the nearer believ¬ 
ing the advent of their redeemer to be, and their restoration to national power and glory. 

The Moquis cities were visited in 1871 by Mr. E. O. Beaman, a member of the expedition that 
explored the Colorado in that year. The experiences of this expedition are full of vivid interest. 
For a long time the Colorado, as well as the Green River which helps to form it, had been the sub¬ 
ject of the most marvelous stories. In the sixteenth century a Mexican exploring party reported 
the discovery of a river with banks so steep they could not be scaled or descended, and nine miles 
high. About one hundred years ago a Spanish priest, who had visited the Colorado, writes that the 
banks were so high that “ a rock which, when lying in the river and seen from the cliff, appeared no 
larger than a man’s hand, was found to be, at the water’s level, as large as the cathedral at Seville.” 
Hunters and miners occasionally contributed to swell still more these exaggerated reports by ac- 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. ioi 

counts of their own hair-breadth escapes and severe sufferings when lost amid the rocky fastnesses 
that enclose these streams. In 1867, James White and Henry Strole, two gold-seekers, finding 
themselves in a country beset by hostile Indians, constructed a raft, and descended the Colorado 
from a point on the Grand, about thirty miles above its junction with the Green, preferring to en¬ 
counter the unknown perils of that voyage rather than the known danger of discovery by the red¬ 
skins. They had been only four days under way when Strole was drowned. White then continued 



Distant View of Moqui, with Sheep-pens in the Foreground. 


the voyage, and succeeded in reaching Callville, but only after ten days of the greatest hardship and 
deprivation. His experiences form a thrilling narrative. 

In 1869 a Government expedition was fitted out under command of Major J. W. Powell for the 
exploration of the Canons of the Colorado. They reached Callville after many striking adventures; 
but not satisfied with the results of their labors, a second expedition was fitted out—also under com¬ 
mand of Major Powell—with the purpose of exploring not only the river, but the whole valley of the 
Colorado. Beginning at the point where the Union Pacific Railroad crosses the Green River, they 













102 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 


have already explored a distance of one thousand miles to the end of the Grand Canon ; but the 
expedition is not yet at an end. To complete their surveys it is supposed will require until the latter 
part of 1875. 

The expedition was organized at Green River City, Wyoming Territory, in May, 1871, the party 
consisting of various scientific men and artists, among them the Mr. Beaman before-mentioned, who 
was a photographer from New York. The boats were three in number, properly provided with 
water-tight compartments and with other equipments stowed away in rubber sacks, the outfit being 
calculated to be sufficient for a year and a half. They descended the Green River to the Colorado, 
and then the latter stream, traversing a distance of six hundred miles, in which there was not less 
than four hundred rapids, by the 22d day of the succeeding October, at which time they went into 
winter-quarters. They had prepared themselves for encountering the greatest perils and hardships, 
nor were they much mistaken in their anticipations. 

On the 2d of June, writes Mr. Beaman, they ran four very difficult rapids in going one mile, 
and were then forced to land and bail out the boats which were nearly full of water. 

“ After making everything secure again ”—we quote from Mr. Beaman’s journal—“ we started 
out, and soon came to a very sudden bend in the river. The water, having worn a passage far under 
the rocks, sucked everything into it like a whirlpool. In passing the corner the Nellie Powell (one 
of the boats) was drawn under by this mighty current force, and capsized. The crew narrowly 
escaped drowning, but managed to reach the shore without great damage. 9 * * 

“ The Emma Dean also struck the wall, and carried away a rowlock; but the Canonita rounded 
the turn successfully. * * * One mile further on we passed four fearful rapids, through 

which the boats plunged at a terrific rate, each nearly filling with water. The walls of rock are 
closing in as if to immure us in a monster tomb, and a certain terror fastens on a man’s vitals as the 
grim shadows deepen, while yet life itself appears not to fascinate as does that unknown water-track 
beckoning us on. 

“ Camped at 11 a.m. for dinner, amid the most awful solitude we could imagine, the walls of the 
canon rising on either side to the height of two thousand feet. Pulled out again at 1 p.m. ; found the 
river very rough. Ran one mile, shipping large quantities of water. * 0 The current of the 

river is very swift here, running upward of twenty miles an hour.” 

June 5th he writes: “The day has been full of excitement, not unaccompanied by danger, for 
we have run twenty fearful rapids in coming six miles. Imagination cannot create an enjoyment so 
full of nervous dread and daring as the dash through these rapids at the rate of thirty miles an hour. 

“ Arrived at Ashley Falls at 3 p.m. Here it was thought best that a ‘genuine portage’ should 
be made. The boats were accordingly unloaded, and two of them lifted over the cliff, a height of 
fifty feet, carried about a hundred yards, and then lowered into the river again at the foot of the falls. 
The Canonita we decided to let go ‘ by the run,’ which she did in fine style, coming out like a duck 
from the combing wave.” 

Later in the same month two of the party left the boats to take a measurement of certain carbon¬ 
iferous cliffs that attracted their attention. Having reached the summit of a rocky height on the 
river’s edge, and wishing to descend on a side opposite to that by which they had come, they looked 
for some spot at which they might find a grade sufficiently easy. They proceeded for two miles, the 
sides of the cliff for all that distance being perpendicular for the first two hundred feet downward. 
As they proceeded, they rose higher and higher, until at last they were on the highest part of the 
canon-walls, two thousand five hundred feet above the level of the river. Here they found a dan¬ 
gerous pass which they tried to descend, but after traversing the slope for fifteen hundred feet, they 
found the descent suddenly changed to a perpendicular for the next thousand feet. They were by 
this time suffering the pangs of thirst ; it was also growing late, and they had no time to lose, if 
they would not be overtaken by night amid these pitiless rocks. They finally contrived to reach the 
river, but it was then nearly sunset, and they had accomplished nothing. There was nothing left 
but to return to camp by the easiest and shortest way. The route by which they had come was 
much too wearisome and difficult, and so they looked about for some other. They found one that 
seemed promising, but after a most painful and hazardous ascent of eighteen hundred feet, they 
found their further progress prevented by a blank wall two hundred feet high. They had no choice 
but to return to the river the way they had come. Here they endeavored to follow the course of the 
river back to camp, “ through thorny underbrush and rose-briers, over cragged rocks, through mud, 
and often waist-deep in the water, with bleeding hands and exhausted frames.” At ten o’clock even 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 


103 


this toilsome march was brought to a stop by a jutting cliff that cut off all further progress. For¬ 
tunately it was a bright moonlight night, and presently finding a dry cedar stump, they floated out 
into the stream with it, hoping to reach camp in that way. 

“ For a short distance they floated admirably ; but, just as they were beginning to congratulate 
each other upon the success of the undertaking, a roar like that of a rapid fell upon their ears. They 
knew there was no rapid at that point, having passed it a few days before ; hence what new danger 
menaced them ? Their anxiety, however, was soon too well justified. A salient angle in the wall 



jutted sharply into the current, causing a whirlpool which they were too near to avoid. Clem was 
not a good swimmer; and, as they neared the pool, Mr. Steward became aware that, while the cedar- 
stub might carry one person through, two trusting to it must be lost; so, when warned by the in¬ 
creasing suction that the time had come, he loosed his hold on the frail support, and trusted to God 
and his own muscle. The whirling waters seized him, and carried him—how far under he knew not; 
but, struggling against the terrible force, he struck for the surface. Several times he came so near 
as to see a faint line of light, and as many times was drawn under again.” 

Finally, as he was on the point of succumbing, he found himself beyond the reach of the whirl¬ 
ing waves, and striking out feebly, reached the surface in quiet water. A little below he saw his 




















104 


THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO RIVER. 


companion, the cedar-stub having carried him safely through. He reached this frail support with 
much difficulty, and the two soon afterward arrived safely in camp. But they had canon experience 
enough for one day. 

Of all the canons on the Green and the Colorado, the Grand Canon is in every respect the largest. 
It is over two hundred miles long, and varies in depth from four thousand to seven thousand feet. 
The stream is here from fifty to five hundred feet wide, and the descent is in some places as much 
as two hundred feet to the mile. Below the Grand is the Black Canon, which is twenty-five miles 
long, with banks from one thousand to fifteen hundred feet high. Horseshoe Cafion is on the Green 
River, and is so named from its resemblance to a horseshoe. The walls are of red and yellow sand¬ 
stone, perpendicular, and two thousand feet high. At this place there is a dangerous rapid, immense 
boulders cleaving the stream. The current flows at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and the waves 
dash wildly six and eight feet high. Red Canon is below the Horseshoe, and is so named from the 
brilliant color of its walls. Lower down still is Swallow Canon, in which, for a distance of two miles, 
the walls are lined on both sides of the river with myriads of swallows’ nests. 

Among the most sublime of the canons on the Green River is the Canon of Lodore, named 
from Southey’s poem, “ How do the Waters come down at Lodore ? ” “ This canon,” writes Mr. 

Beaman, “ is very narrow at its entrance, being only about one hundred and fifty yards wide. The 
walls, almost perpendicular, rise to the height of two thousand feet, and, like the Red Canon, are 
composed of brilliant red sandstone, mottled and rainbow-hued. Occasionally a green cedar or 
mountain pine is seen clinging to its sides, adding a picturesque beauty to the place. As we de¬ 
scended the river, which at this point falls one hundred feet to the mile, the walls rose higher and 
higher, until at the head of Disaster Falls, fifteen miles further down, they attained an altitude of 
three thousand feet. Thus shut in by vertical walls, there was no alternative—had we wished it— 
but to go on. Accordingly on the approach of night we hauled our boats close into the shelving 
rocks, and prepared to fortify by rest for the running of the most noted and dangerous rapids on the 
morrow. It was here that, in 1869, Major Powell lost a boat, and nearly her crew. In 1850, a party 
of six trappers, having accumulated a large quantity of furs at Brown’s Hole, constructed a raft d 
three ‘ degouts ’ tied together, on which they intended floating down to the Gulf of California. Brave, 
reckless, and probably not realizing the appalling dangers before them, they sailed down the first few 
rapids in fine style. When the head of Disaster Falls was reached, instead of landing and recon¬ 
noitring, as the roar of the cataract should have advised them to do, they dashed heedlessly along, 
and were carried over the falls. The raft was, of course, totally wrecked, and four of the men were 
drowned. The survivors, one of whom was Jim Bridger, the celebrated trapper and companion of 
Kit Carson, managed to clamber on to the rocks, and there, inclosed in a living tomb, they spent 
several weeks, subsisting upon berries, lizards, and snakes, exhausting themselves in efforts to find a 
way out of the canon ; and, finally, after three months’ wandering, came into an immigrant’s camp, 
in a famished and almost idiotic condition.” 

Mr. Beaman thus describes a sunrise in the Canon of Lodore: “ It was after the gray of the 
morning had passed away, and yet before the gates of Aurora had fully opened, that I awoke. The 
shaggy sides of the canon were yet shadowy and dark, and a light, fleecy cloud of vapor, white as 
the driven snow, covered the bosom of the river, suspended, yet motionless as the canopy of space 
into which it was soon to ascend. I thought of ‘ the veil—the silver veil,’ with which the prophet 
of Khorassan is said to have covered his features, to hide his dazzling brow from the sight of mortals. 
Soon the brightening and blushing skies denoted the glorious coming of the sun, and his swift beams 
began to tinge the peaks of the loftier mountains with golden color, that deepened as the day-god 
neared the horizon. As the light increased, the vapor in the gulch grew opalescent, and seemed in 
motion, soft and tenderly agitated as if by the breath of an infant ; then its western edge slowly 
lifted, and, gradually disclosing the surface of the dark, clear waters, drifted lightly and away until 
lost in the distant gloom of the eastern hills. A mist, nearly as penetrating as rain, than became 
apparent and palpable for a brief space, when it broke into billowy masses, and slowly wreathed and 
curled its way up the canon-walls, lingering in the glens and grottoes far up the mountains, as if 
reluctant to leave a scene of such witching charm. Now the tops of the mountains began to flame 
up with volcanic luridness, and in an instant the great radiator rose clearly from its fiery bath, flood¬ 
ing every thing with sudden brilliancy and distinctness, and transforming the river at our feet into a 
stream of molten silver.” 

Four miles below Disaster Falls are the Triplet Falls. They are three in number and distant 



CANON 
























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































io6 


LUMBERING ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 


from each other about a hundred yards. The walls of the canon are here over three thousand feet 
high, and the scene is extremely impressive and beautiful. Further down we find Dennis’ Cliff, so 
named after a member of the Powell expedition of 1869, who is supposed to have been killed at this 
place by Indians. The cliff is nearly four thousand feet high, and at its top ruins have been dis¬ 
covered supposed to be those of a Spanish or Indian people. Echo Park is at the junction of the 
Green and Bear rivers. “ When a gun is discharged at this place,” writes Mr. Beaman, “ total 
silence follows the report for a moment; then, with startling suddenness, the echo is heard seem¬ 
ingly at a great distance—say five miles to the south, whence it comes back in separate and distinct 
reverberations, as if leaping from glen to glen. Louder and quicker grows the sound until appar¬ 
ently directly opposite, when a full volume of sound is returned ; then once more the echo is heard, 
like the snapping of a cap, far to the eastward.” 

Split Mountain Canon received its name from Major Powell on account of its remarkable phy¬ 
sical features, the river at this point cutting into a mountain some 2,500 feet high, and in places 
reaching an altitude of 3,500 feet. From the summit there is a fine view of the whole length of the 
canon extending far into the valley of the Mintah. Near the mouth of this canon are many curious 
hieroglyphic carvings, representing the elk, deer, buffalo, bear, and various birds, accompanied by 
other characters evidently illustrative, supposed to be the work of the ancient Aztecs. The Canon 
of Desolation is noticeable for a dreary waste of sand and rocks as far as the eye can reach. It is 
followed by Cole’s Canon, the two being together one hundred miles long, and containing one hun¬ 
dred and twenty rapids, of which forty are impassable to even the smallest boats. 

But if one wished to enumerate all the scenes on the Colorado from the source of the Green to 
the outlet of Black Canon, it would require far more space than is now at our command. The points 
of interest referred to in this sketch are but a small proportion of those that really deserve descrip¬ 
tion, while of many hardly any description can be adequate, much less one that.is necessarily brief 
and meagre. To reproduce the beauty and sublimity of many of these scenes is beyond the power 
of any pen. 


LUMBERING ON THE SUSOUEHANNA. 


T HE Susquehanna River, the pride of Pennsylvania, is formed by the union of its North— 
sometimes called East—Branch with its West Branch at Northumberland, sixty miles above 
Harrisburg. Traversing the entire State from north to south, it intersects the rich mining and coal 
districts for which this section of country is remarkable, and along its banks are well-cultivated 
fields and prosperous towns. Its picturesque beauty, celebrated in many a poem, is largely due to the 
numerous islands which so frequently divide the stream, and to the rocky rapids that, at low water, 
obstruct its navigation. The river is skirted from Harrisburg to Sunbury by the Northern Central 
Railway, which then follows the bank of the Western Branch as far as Williamsport. Some of the 
most beautiful of the many lovely views that have made the Erie Railway celebrated above all other 
routes of travel, are to be obtained while traversing the fifty miles intervening between Cascade 
Bridge, the point near the border line of New York and Pennsylvania where the track strikes 
the North Branch of the Susquehanna, and Barton, where it takes its final leave of the river’s 
sinuosities. 

Had we space, we could without difficulty fill pages with descriptions of the numerous important 
and interesting towns that lie contiguous to the river. Only four generations have passed away 
since the reclamation of the lands from the Indians, and yet the landscape, on each side of the 
river and in every direction, presents to view a scene of peace and of well-cultivated husbandry 
that more than any other section of this country reminds the traveler of the garden landscapes of 
England. All the great railroads of the State approach or intersect its waters at one place or an¬ 
other, and serve to transport to distant parts—the South, the West, the Metropolis and the Eastern 
centres—the minerals that are here exhumed from mother earth. All this would form food for many 
articles, but we are obliged to jealously guard our limited space to the delineation of the picturesque 
side of American life. 























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































io8 


THE HUDSON RIVER. 


Lumbering furnishes many of the inhabitants that live adjacent to the Susquehanna and its 
numerous tributaries with an occupation, and as a trade it is not destitute of the chances of adven¬ 
ture. If the lumberman be of a philosophic turn of mind, in what speculative reveries may he 
not indulge, as he adroitly steers his unwieldy flotilla. The plank he treads may support the burly 
frame of some great English advocate of the rights of the people, or be used in the construction of a 
desk from which a Bismarck may issue his dictum to the European world. 

The preparations for the trip down the river, though laborious, are often conducted like a frolic. 
The felling of the trees in mid-winter, the cutting of shingles, and the drawing out on the snow, are 
employments preferred by the young men to the tamer but less arduous work of the farm-yard ; and 
in the temporary and uncomfortable shanties, deep in the woods, subsisting often on nothing but 
pork and whisky, they find metal more attractive than village or fire-side. 

The small streams emptying into the Susquehanna are innumerable ; and eight or ten miles 
back from the river the arks are built, and the materials of the rafts collected, ready to launch with 
the first thaw. When the floods come in March, the noise of voices and hammering coming out from 
the woods above, warn the inhabitants of the villages on the river banks of the approach of an ark ; 
and at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, the rude structure shoots by the quiet hamlets floating 
high on the water, manned with a singing and saucy crew, who dodge the branches of the trees, and 
work their steering-paddles with an adroitness and nonchalance which sufficiently show the character 
of the class. The numerous sudden bends which the river takes, and from which it derived its name 
(Crooked River), often puts the steermanship to the test; and when the leaves are off the trees, it is 
a curious sight to see the bulky monsters, shining with new boards, whirling around in the swift 
eddies, and, when caught by the current again, gliding off among the trees, like a singing and swear¬ 
ing phantom of an unfinished barn. 

It is a fact not generally known that when a river is rising, the middle is the highest, and vice 
versa when falling—sufficiently proved by the experience of the raftsmen, who, if they start before 
the flow is at its top, cannot keep their crafts from the shore. A pent-house, barely sufficient for a 
man to stretch himself below, is raised on the deck, with a fire-place of earth and loose stone ; and 
with what provision they can afford, and plenty of whisky, they shove out into the stream. Thence¬ 
forward it is vogue la ga/ere ! They have nothing to do all day but abandon themselves to the cur¬ 
rent, sing and dance, and take the turn at the steering-oars ; and when the sun sets, they look out 
for an eddy, and pull in to the shore. The stopping-places are not very numerous, and are well 
known to all who follow the trade ; and as the river swarms with rafts, the getting to land and mak¬ 
ing sure of a fastening, is a scene always of great competition. When all is settled for the night, 
however, and the fires are lit on the long range of the flotilla, the raftsmen get together over their 
whisky and provender, and tell the thousand stories of their escapes and accidents ; and with the 
repetition of this, night after night, the whole rafting population along the five hundred miles of the 
Susquehanna become partially acquainted, and form a sympathetic corps. 


THE HUDSON RIVER. 

T HERE is no river that is so intimately associated with our history and literature as the North 
or Hudson. Many of the most important events of the eight years of Revolution transpired 
in its vicinity. Irving and Paulding found rich subjects for their pens in its traditions and legendary 
lore, and a host of the minor poets have sung in enthusiastic rhyme of its placid bosom and beauti¬ 
ful banks. 

Independently of all this, however, the river has charms that one need not be versed in history 
to enjoy, beauties so pre-eminent that they touched the hearts of the practical Dutch navigators, and 
caused Hendrick Hudson’s secretary to write of it as a “ fair river flowing through a goodly coun¬ 
try.” The hazy outlines of the hills limned against the blue sky, the prosperous fields stretching 
away from the banks as far as eye can reach, the bold promontories that rise up from the water as 
if to contest the right of passage, and the sudden bends where the river seems almost shut in by the 
tree-covered hills,—all these combine to form a grand natural panorama ; and while admiring a seen? 





THE HUDSON RIVER. 


109 


so beautiful that it seems as if all the combinations of Nature could not produce one more lovely, 
vve glide by another in which the blue outlines of the hills seem softer, the rich verdure greener, 
and the gleam of the crystal current more silvery. The western water-courses do not compare 
with it: with their strong, muddy currents, and monotonous banks and outlines, they are, indeed, 
equally serviceable for navigation, but they utterly lack the graceful flow and air of peace and quiet 
that distinguish the placid Hudson. 

At New York the river possesses the advantage of sudden contrast. It is but a short journey 
from the crowded docks of the North River, as the Hudson as it flows by the city is called, to scenes 
of rural life. Almost before we are aware of it, we have passed the wharves in which lie the great 
ocean steamers, and have left the crowded ferry-boats and ugly flatboats, with their escorts the noisy 
tugs, far behind ; but hardly is the uproar and bustle of the city lost in the distance, than before 
the passengers of the magnificent steamers that ply the Hudson lie the pastoral beauties of the 
American Rhine. Intermixed with superb villas, the creations of modern wealth, which peep from 
amid the foliage on Washington Heights, one sees here and there a squarely-built mansion that in 
its pristine glory belonged to one of the early settlers ; and the yachts and sail-boats, frequently con¬ 
taining fair occupants, lend an additional charm to a dolce far niente scene like which there is no 
other on this continent. 

The Hudson River Railroad skirts the river on the eastern side, and frequently as the river-boats 
steam quickly onward on the breast of the incoming tide, one is tempted to believe that the boat 
can hold its own against its competitor. But the iron-horse rolls forward with a loud reverberation on 
the river’s edge, and gradually gains until a station stops its victorious progress. The delay thus occa¬ 
sioned enables the steamboat to recover its lost ground for a time ; but it is again overtaken and, from the 
same cause, again gets ahead. At last, however, either the steamer has to make a landing, or a greater 
distance intervenes between the stations, and the train slowly and gradually disappears in the distance. 

A point that already approaches historic interest is Font Hill, a mile and a half below Yonkers, 
built by the late Edwin Forrest. Although a thorough American, the great tragedian had a decided 
fondness for the luxuries of life, and especially admired structures that implied the long possession 
of wealth. On returning from an English trip, he began the erection of Font Hill. It was built of 
blue granite, after the plan of an English castle, and has six towers, from which an extensive view 
of the Hudson may be obtained. In 1838 he took possession, and continued to reside in it until 
his next visit to England in 1844. The jealousy between Macready and Forrest had by this time 
culminated in an open quarrel, that became national at least so far as the dramatic world was con¬ 
cerned. Coming home with a heart full of bitterness, and fearing the accusation that he was aping 
the English nobility, Forrest sold his “ castle ” to the Roman Catholic Sisters of Charity of the Con¬ 
vent of Mount St. Vincent, who erected other buildings and use the whole of them as a school. 

A little above Font Hill is Yonkers, a large and thriving village, about seventeen miles above the 
metropolis, where many wealthy New Yorkers have located since the increase of railway communica¬ 
tion. The country round about is hilly and picturesque. Broad carriage-roads lead from it in 
nearly all directions, and there are facilities for every variety of sport—boating, fishing, or shoot¬ 
ing. The celebrated Philipse Manor Hall is located at Yonkers, and is still kept in good order. 
It was originally built in 1682, and an addition was made to it in 1745. The building was 
constructed after a liberal plan. The 
apartments are all wainscoated, and the 
ceilings lofty, while the principal cham¬ 
ber is frescoed with figures. In this 
house was born Mary Philipse, whose 
beauty and prospective wealth capti¬ 
vated Washington when he was a young 
man. The future Commander-in-Chief 
lingered in her presence as long as eti¬ 
quette and his duties would allow, but 
his exceeding diffidence prevented him 
from making known to her his passion, 
and she became engaged to a fellow- 
officer, named Morris. When the Revo¬ 
lution broke out, Morris refused to side 



The Palisades. 














I IO 


THE HUDSON RIVER. 


with the colonists. In the fall of 
1776, Washington occupied the house 
so intimately connected with the ro¬ 
mance of his youth as his military 
headquarters. 

Four miles above Yonkers, at Hast¬ 
ings, are the most picturesque por¬ 
tions of the “ Palisades.” The Pali¬ 
sades extend along the western shore 
of the Hudson from Haverstraw al¬ 
most to Hoboken, and are about thirty- 
five miles in length. They are por¬ 
tions of a ridge-rock of trap-rocks, and 
derive their name from the kind of 
fortification which they resemble. 
“ Between Piedmont and Hoboken, 
these rocks present, for a considerable distance, an uninterrupted, rude, columnar front, from three 
to five hundred feet in height. They form a mural escarpment, columnar in appearance, yet not 
actually so in form. They have a steep slope of debris , which has been crumbling from the ridge 
above during long centuries, through the action of frost and the elements. This ridge is narrow, 
being, in some places, not more than three-quarters of a mile in width. It is really an enormous, 
projecting dyke-trap. On the top and among the debris, in many places, is a thin growth of trees.” 
From the river the aspect of the Palisades is not very inviting. They have a grim, and somewhat 
forbidding appearance, but now and then one can catch, through occasional breaks in the ridge, 
glimpses of the beautiful country behind. The highest point of the Palisades is nearly opposite 
Sing Sing, and rises 666 feet above tide-water. The Hollanders called it by the startling name of 
Verdrietigh-Hoeck, which being translated, means “Vexatious Point.” It obtained its name from 
the fact that at this place they were apt to meet with adverse winds, that crossed each other, and 
made the management of their lumbering vessels very difficult. 

Dobbs’ Ferry, five miles above Yonkers, was an important point during the Revolution. Several 
of the prominent movements in the Hudson River campaign took place there. Upon a high bank 
near the railway station, the Americans built fortifications at the beginning of the conflict, and held 
the place until their defeat by Lord Cornwallis, in October, 1776. Haverstraw, the place where, 
Arnold and Andre met, is but a short distance from this place. 

Sunnyside, the former residence of Washington Irving, is further up the river, about three miles 
below Tarrytown. Around this place, of which Irving wrote so gracefully, must ever cling the 
pleasantest of memories. It is reached from the main road by a winding carriage-way that passes 
through green meadows and shady woodlands, and along the border of a little vale, through which 
runs a sparkling streamlet that ripples down toward the Hudson until it empties into a little bay a 
few yards from Sunnyside. Irving’s house was a quaint,'old-fashioned cottage, half overrun with 
ivy, while from the eastern window the river could be seen for a long distance. P'rom a description 
of the place by Mr. Lossing we extract the following : 

“ I visited Sunnyside and strolled along the brook at the mouth of the glen, where it comes down 
in cascades before entering the once beautiful little bay, now cut off from free union with the river 
by the railway. The channel was full of crystal water. The delicate foliage was casting delicate 
shadows where, at this time, there is half twilight under the umbrageous branches, and the trees are 
full of warblers. It is a charming spot, and is consecrated by many memories of Irving and his 
friends, who frequented this romantic little dell when the sun was at its meridian After a while, I 
climbed its banks, crossed the lane, and wandered along a shaded path to a hollow in the hills filled 
with water. This pond, which Mr. Irving called the * Mediterranean Sea,’ was made by damming 
the stream, and thus a pretty cascade at its outlet was formed. It is in the shape of a * palm-leaf’ 
that comes from the loom. On one side a wooded hill stretches down to it abruptly, leaving only 
space enough for a path, and on others it washes the feet of gently grassy slopes. This is one of 
the many charming pictures to be found at Sunnyside.” 

Mr. Irving died in November, 1859, and was buried in the family burying ground at Tarrytown. 
His funeral was one of the largest ever known, and was attended by all the literary men of the day, 
and many other distinguished persons. 



Stony Point. 














THE HUDSON RIVER. 


111 


Near Tarry town is the famous “ Sleepy Hollow.” A stream of water runs through it, which was 
called by the Indians Pocantecs, signifying a run between two hills. There is an old Dutch church 
and churchyard at its opening, built in 1690, of brick and stone—the brick being brought over from 
Holland for the purpose—which would delight an antiquarian. The expenses of its erection were 
defrayed by Frederic Phillips. Over its diminutive spire there is a vane in which is cut the mono¬ 
gram of its founder, and in the tower hangs the old bell, bearing the inscription in Latin : “If 
God be for us, who can be against us ? ” 

Sing Sing is a prosperous village containing about five thousand inhabitants. It is built upon a 
slope of hills about one hundred and eighty feet above the Hudson, and overlooks Tappan Bay—a 
widening of the river which the early Dutch settlers called a sea. In the upper portion of Sing Sing 
there is a ravine yet retaining much of the wild and picturesque scenery that must have characterized 
this section of country before the advent of civilization. Over it flows the Croton river which 
supplies the city of New York with water. Its channel is of massive masonry lying upon an ellip¬ 
tical arch of hewn granite of eighty-five feet span, its keystone being more than seventy feet from 
the waters of the brook under it. The Croton Aqueduct was a most important improvement, the 
water of the city having been exceedingly impure and unhealthy. There was, notwithstanding, 
when the project was first agitated, considerable opposition to passing the appropriation necessary 
for its construction. Work was begun on the aqueduct in May, 1837, and progressed rapidly. At the 
head of the aqueduct a dam was constructed for the purpose of forming a fountain reservoir. “ In 
the early part of 1841 a flood produced by a protracted rain-storm and melting snows, swept away 
the dam and carried with it, riverward, a quantity of earth and gravel, sufficient to half fill the beauti¬ 
ful Croton Bay. The dam was immediately rebuilt, at a greater altitude, and a lake was produced, 
almost six miles in length, capable of containing about 500,000,000 gallons of water. It is 166 feet 
above mean tide-water at New York, and pours into the aqueduct from 40,000,000 to 50,000,000 



Entrance to the Highlands near Newburgh. 














































I 12 


THE HUDSON RIVER. 


gallons every twenty-four hours. The Croton Aqueduct runs parallel with the Hudson, at the mean 
distance of half a mile from it throughout its entire length. Its course is marked by culverts and 
arches of solid masonry, and its line may be observed at a distance by white stone towers, about 
fifteen feet in height, placed at intervals of a mile. These are ventilators of the aqueduct ; some 
of them are quite ornamental, while others are simple, round towers, and every third one has a 

square base, with a door by which 
a person may enter the aqueduct.” 
This great work was finished in 
1842, in the autumn of that year. 
The cost of its erection was about 
$12,000,000. 

The State Prison is also 
situated, as is well known, at 
Sing Sing. It is in the southern 
part on a group of small hills 
known as Mount Pleasant. The 
prison is divided into male and 
female departments, and both were 
built by convicts. The modern 
prison system has been adopted 
here, and the prisoners are com¬ 
pelled to work at various trades 
instead of being placed in solitary 
confinement. 

Some distance above Sing 
Sing is Stony Point, a mass of 
granite rocks, with occasional 
patches of ever-green trees and 
hardy shrubbery. The barrenness 
of Stony Point makes it unavail¬ 
able for agricultural purposes, and 
the landscape here is almost the 
same as when the Continentals 
and British were marching and 
countermarching over its rocky 
surface. It is in the form of a 
peninsula. A light-house, a keep¬ 
er’s lodge, and a fog-bell stand 
upon the spot formerly occupied 
by the old fort. 

To describe in detail the nu¬ 
merous points of interest along the 
Hudson would not only be weari¬ 
some, but would require much 
more space than can be devoted 
to it here. The entrance to the 
Highlands, Peekskill, Anthony’s 
Nose, the Storm King, Constitu¬ 
tion Island, West Point, and many 
other places, are remarkable alike for their extraordinary natural beauty and for their intimate asso¬ 
ciation with our early history. 

At the mouth of Wappingi’s Creek, there is a promontory covered with gravel, from which a fine 
view of the Highlands and the town of Newburgh may be obtained. Newburgh is the oldest settle¬ 
ment in Orange county, and many historical associations are clustered around it. The first settle¬ 
ment was made by Palatines, who began to erect buildings on the site of the present town in 1709. 
After the lapse of a few years, the inhabitants became discontented with the spot, divided up, and 

























































































































































































THE HUDSON RIVER. 


”3 


went to different localities. Other settlers supplied their places, however, and the town flourished. 
The “ Hasbrouck House,” one of the numerous “ Washington Headquarters,” is at this place. It is 
now the property of the State, and a sum of money is annually appropriated to keep it in good con¬ 
dition. It contains a considerable collection of relics of the wars of the country. 

The natural scenery in the vicin¬ 
ity of Newburgh is considered by 
many the grandest on the river. “ Be¬ 
fore the town is the lofty range of 
the Fishkill Mountains, on which 
signal-fires were lighted during the 
Revolution: and the group of the 
Highlands, through which the Hud¬ 
son flows. These are reflected in a 
broad and beautiful bay, at all times 
animated with a variety of watercraft 
and wild fowl. One of the finest and 
most comprehensive views of New¬ 
burgh Bay may be obtained from the 
hill, just below Newburgh and Fish- 
kill railway station, looking south¬ 
west. At Newburgh is the eastern 
terminus of a branch of the New 
York and Erie Railway, which passes 
through some very picturesque scen¬ 
ery.” 

Poughkeepsie is one of the most 
beautiful and thriving cities in the 
State. It is charmingly situated on 
the eastern bank of the Hudson 
River, on a high level plateau over¬ 
looking the country along the river 
from the Catskills to the Highlands, 
and has a population of twenty-five 
thousand inhabitants, among whom 
are a large number of distinguished 
professional and literary gentlemen 
and many eminent retired merchants. 

It was first settled by the Dutch to¬ 
ward the close of the seventeenth 
century. The building erected by 
Baltus Van Kleek, in the year 1705, 
remained standing until 1835. Pough¬ 
keepsie is famous for her schools, 
having eighteen private institu¬ 
tions of learning. Among these are 
the celebrated Vassar Female Col¬ 
lege and the Eastman Business Col¬ 
lege. The Great Bridge to span 
the river here for a direct East and 
West Railroad line will be a mag¬ 
nificent structure. To the enterprise 
and foresight of Mr. Eastman is due 
the inception of the bridge idea. When this great work of internal improvement is finished, a com¬ 
plete revolution will be effected in the transportation of the products of the great manufacturing 
centres of the East and the mineral regions of Pennsylvania. These can be exchanged without the 
necessity of the roundabout and expensive journey by way of New York. 



Proposed Bridge across the Hudson at Poughkeepsie. 













































































































































































THE HUDSON RIVER. 


1 14 


About six miles below Hudson, is Oak Hill Station, opposite the mouth of the Catskill river, a 
stream which flows down from the hills of Schoharie, a distance of nearly forty miles. The scenery 
in the Catskills is very beautiful. At every turn of the road leading to the mountains, which skirts 
the margin of a clear stream that is heard oftener than it is seen, the traveler encounters some new 
scene of loveliness. The mountains rise up abruptly from the plain, dark and solemn, casting their 
shadows below. The road is very winding, “ and in its ascent along the side of the glen, or more 
properly magnificent gorge, it is so enclosed by the towering hills on one side, and the lofty trees 

that shoot up on the other, 
that little can be seen be¬ 
yond a few rods, except 
the sky above, or glimpses 
of some distant summit, 
until the pleasant nook in 
the mountain is reached, 
wherein the cabin of Rip 
Van Winkle is nestled. 
After that the course of the 
road is more nearly parallel 
with the river and the plain, 
and through frequent vistas 
glimpses may be caught of 
the country below, that 
charm the eye, excite the 
fancy and the imagination, 
and make the heart throb 
quicker and stronger with 
pleasurable emotions.” Ir¬ 
ving’s descriptions and his 
version of the legend of 
“ Rip Van Winkle,” have 
made the Catskills famous. 
The cabin which is said to 
have been occupied by the 
somnolent Rip, is still stand¬ 
ing. The scenery through 
the mountains is majestic 
and inspiring. The “ Moun¬ 
tain House ” is built upon 
a grand rock-platform near¬ 
ly three thousand feet above 
tide-water, a considerable 
distance below some of the 
higher summits, it is true, 
but yet portions of four 
States and ten thousand 
square miles of territory 
may be seen from it. From 
the top of the South Moun¬ 
tain, three hundred feet 
above the “ Mountain House,” and of the North Mountain, which is further off and higher, even a 
more extensive view may be obtained. All through the mountains there are bits of scenery which 
form the delight of artists. Sunset Rock, an illustration of which is given, is a lovely and pic¬ 
turesque scene. At evening, when the tops of the trees are gilded by the radiance of the setting 
sun, whose red gleam shines through the clouds, giving the sky the appearance of a mingled 
column of fire and smoke, the beauty of the rock is of so rare a type, that the most practical of men 
could hardly have failed to give it its present name. 








































































































































THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES. 


"5 

Above this point, as is well known, the magnificent and sublime scenery that has marked the 
course of the Hudson nearly from its mouth, gives place to a landscape, graceful and picturesque 
indeed, but utterly wanting the bold and imposing aspects characteristic of the lower portion of 
the river. The great cities of Albany and Troy are situated on it. The river is formed by two 
small streams flowing from the Adirondack Mountains, one rising in Hamilton, and the other in 
Essex County, New York, which unite in Warren County, about forty miles from the source of each. 
There is some very picturesque scenery near the j^purce of the river, but as we have so fully illus¬ 
trated and devoted so much space to the Adirondacks, we think a further description unnecessary. 


THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT 

CITIES. 


C OMPARATIVELY little is known by Americans of the group of great inland seas— 
Ontario, Erie, Huron, Superior, and Michigan—which form our northern frontier. Their 
position being far to the north of the line of western travel is one reason for this ignorance and 
indifference, and the absolute supremacy of railways in the matter of passenger transportation is 
another; but the beauty of their surroundings and their singularity as the only great fresh-water 
lakes in the world, should have recommended them to the notice of a larger number of tourists. 
The popular “ route through the lakes ” is from Buffalo to some of the cities on Lake Michigan in 
a steamer. There are five great inland ports on the lakes—Buffalo, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, 
and Chicago—and these cities owe their prosperity, nay their very existence, to their being the 



Main Street, Buffalo, opposite the Churches. 


entrepots and distributing centres for the immense freight traffic carried on on the bosom of these 
great bodies of water. 

Buffalo is situated in the north-eastern corner of New York State on Lake Erie. A mere village 
before the completion of the Erie canal, it has since grown with almost magical rapidity, and is now 
one of the most prosperous and beautiful cities in America. As is the case with almost all of the 
lake ports, the trees have been carefully preserved, and the long shaded avenues give it a most pic¬ 
turesque appearance. Two, and sometimes three, rows of elms and other deciduous trees line 
either side of many of the streets, and to a stranger accustomed to the long and dusty brick pave¬ 
ments that characterize the business avenues of most American cities, their effect is both novel and 














THE GREAT TAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES. 


116 



pleasing. Main street, as its name indicates, is the prin¬ 
cipal thoroughfare and centre of the retail trade, and the 
marked beauty of its church edifices diverts attention 
from the stately blocks devoted to the service of mam¬ 
mon. St. Paul’s Cathedral (Episcopalian) is the architec¬ 
tural ornament of the city. Its spire, of solid freestone, 
almost as high as that of Trinity Church, New York, con¬ 
tains a fine set of chimes, which are rung by the only 
trained band of chime-ringers in the country. Near it is 
the First Presbyterian Church, a modest structure over¬ 
run with ivy, while but a short distance away lies St. 
Joseph’s Cathedral, which boasts of possessing, with but 
one exception, the finest chimes in the world. They were 
purchased at the French World’s Fair, but, through ignor¬ 
ance, were so badly hung that much of their effect is 
lost. 

Delaware, Niagara, Court and Genesee, four streets 
that cross each other at different angles, are noted for 
their magnificent residences. A superb system of parks 
designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, the architect of 
Central Park, New York city, is now in course of con¬ 
struction, which, when completed, will add very much to 
the attractiveness of the city. The land taken for park 
purposes was formerly a common, and consists in all of 
about five hundred acres, situated in the eastern, north¬ 
ern, and western parts. It is proposed to connect these 
by a boulevard that will run entirely around the upper 
portion of the city, and thus form a continuous drive of 
nearly ten miles. 

Fort Porter has hitherto been the pleasure-ground of 
the city. There is nothing in the fort itself deserving of 
special mention, but the view from it is superb. Toward 
Lake Erie are the spires, elevators, and docks of Buffalo, 
with the long pier on which the new light-house is situated ; 
beyond is the new breakwater, with its light, reduced by the 
distance to a mere line drawn across the water : but the 
centre of attraction in this beautiful landscape is the lake 
itself in its ever-varying aspects, with its long lines of foam- 
tipped waves now glistening with blinding brilliancy in the 
light of the sun, or under the influence of a calm presenting 
those soft tints of green for which the lakes are remarkable, 
or again, under the gathering shadows of night, lying dark, 
gloomy, and saturnine. To the right is seen the Canadian 
shore, and a dark patch of gray locates the ruins of Fort 
Erie. Further on is the town of Victoria or Waterloo as 
it is variously called, and down the Niagara river the new 
International Bridge projects from shore to shore. 

One of the finest and most comprehensive views of 
Buffalo is the one from the lake, an illustration of which is 
given. Directly in front, and stretching away off to the 
right of us, we see a long pier or breakwater, erected at 
immense cost, and still incomplete, which protects the 
front of the city from the treacherous waves of the lake, 
and forms a wide and spacious harbor, in which a navy 
might ride. On the nearer end behold one of those eyes, 
whose glances, scintillating afar, have so often at night 












































































































































THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES. 


ii 7 


proved a blessing and a comfort to the storm-tossed mariner ; 
for this calm, pleasant-looking sheet of water, which is now a 
mirror, reflecting the white, fleecy clouds floating far above it, 
can get up, without the slightest apparent effort, storms of the 
most appalling character. Beyond, on an inner pier, projecting 
boldly from the mouth of the creek, is another beacon, which 
guides us directly to the haven we seek. In front of the entire 
city stretches a sea-wall, behind which, on the right, are shel¬ 
tered the immense many-shaped and dingy-brown elevators 
which betoken the source of the city’s business and wealth ; 
and on the left, the depots, trestles, manufactories and other 
adjuncts of trade and commerce. The background is made up 
of massive business structures and private residences, peeping 
above the trees; while the numerous graceful spires rising 
majestically heavenwards exhibit the good taste with which the 
city’s accumulated wealth has been spent. 

We embark from Buffalo in one of the numerous steamers 
that ply the lakes, and, once upon Lake Erie, the first thing that 
strikes the voyager is the turbidity of its waters, especially near Buffalo Creek, looking out. 

the shores, arising from the shallowness of the lake. For the benefit of those of our readers who 
may not happen to be statisticians, we may say that Lake Erie, which has a mean length of about 
two hundred and forty miles, and a breadth ranging from thirty to sixty miles, rarely exceeds, and 
then only in exceptional places, one hundred and twenty feet in depth. It is to this shallowness that 
the severity of the storms that visit this lake are attributed, and the paucity of good harbors render 
them the more dangerous. The only historical fact of interest connected with the lake is the naval 
battle fought upon its waters, September io, 1813, in which Lieutenant Perry, with a squadron mount¬ 
ing but 54 guns, manned by 490 officers and men, vanquished the British under Captain Barclay, 
who had 63 guns, and 502 officers and men. The whole of the English squadron was captured, and 
the victory was thus modestly and concisely epitomized by Perry, who, when success was certain, 
wrote to General Harrison on the back of an old letter resting in his naval cap : “ We have met the 
enemy, and they are ours—two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop.” 

To the lover of the picturesque there is much of interest in the islands of Lake Erie, ten or more 
in number, which lie off Sandusky Bay, having an area varying from 2,800 acres to a mere dot upon 
the water. These islands are now coming into prominence owing to their adaptability for grape 
culture. The large steamers on the way up and down the lakes generally pass them in the night, 
and thus, in order to see them, one must take one of the numerous small craft that ply between 
Sandusky and the islands. Put-in-Bay Island has gained considerable reputation as a summer resort. 
It has six hundred inhabitants and two large hotels. Kelley’s Island, the largest of the group, pos¬ 
sesses, in addition to its vineyards, valuable quarries of limestone, which supply the furnaces of the 
vicinity with lime and flux stone. 

The second large port on the lakes is Cleveland, more poetically known as the “ Forest City.” 
The principal industry of Cleveland is oil-refining, and the refineries of the city have a capacity for 
stilling fifteen thousand barrels a day. The trade is very profitable, but there is an unusual amount 
of risk incurred, the danger from fire and explosion being very great. The crude petroleum is 
brought from the oil-regions of Pennsylvania in long trains of cylinder-shaped cars, that have the 
appearance of boilers on wheels. It is drawn from the cars to a huge tank through long ranges of 
pipes, and is there kept until required for use at the stills. The architecture of the city gives out¬ 
ward evidence of its prosperity. It would be difficult to find, outside of New York city, an Amer¬ 
ican street as beautiful as Euclid Avenue. It is lined for a distance of three miles with large 
and costly mansions, erected in the middle of extensive grounds; and the smooth green lawns, 
the conservatories, and the noble trees lining the sidewalks, give it an appearance of wealth and 
refinement. 

From Cleveland the lake steamers bound for Lakes Huron and Superior, pass Detroit, the 
“ City of Straits.” Detroit produces a highly pleasing impression upon the traveler. Though it is 
said to be one of the oldest towns in the country, it looks fresh, bright and modern. The streets 
are wide, the squares numerous, and the houses in the business portion of the city lofty and 













118 


THE GREA T LAKES AND THEIR GREA T CITIES. 


handsome, while the up-town parts of the leading avenues are bordered with handsome private 
residences, the majority of which are in cosy and shady gardens. There are few American towns 
where trees and shrubbery are more plentiful. The moment you leave the business quarter 
you see gardens all around, which the abundant vapors of the two lakes and the Detroit river 

keep in luxuriant condition. One can, of course, not 
look for picturesque elements in or about Detroit, the 
country being flat and full of monotony, relieved only 
by the large expanses of water. But there is something 
winningly neat and intensely patriarchal in the little 
wooden cottages, growing like mushrooms, and pushing 
the outskirts of the town further and further out into 
the country. Nearly all of them are painted white, have 
brightly colored roofs, and a piece of ground planted 
with shrubs and flowers, the general picture thus ob- 
tainiig a bright and shiny touch not frequently to be 
beheld in more go-ahead communities of this part of 
the world. 

After Detroit comes Milwaukee, Chicago’s most 
dangerous rival. Milwaukee is the eastern outlet for 
the great grain crops of Wisconsin. It has the best 
harbor on Lake Michigan, and since the Chicago fire it 
has taken its position as a leading inland port. There 
was not in the year 1834 a sufficient number of white 
inhabitants in Milwaukee county to fill the offices neces¬ 
sary for its organization : to-day its county-seat has a 
population of more than one hundred thousand, and its 
beautiful bay, with its immense and costly breakwater, 
bears upon its breast a commerce represented by eight 
thousand arrivals of vessels every year. In grace of 
curvature, beauty of color, and the boldness of its bluffs, 
it compares favorably with the finest sheets of water 
in the world, and is thought to resemble the Bay of 
Naples. 

Milwaukee is the largest grain market in the world, 
and the transactions of its Chamber of Commerce 
amount to over a hundred million dollars a year. The 
elevators, therefore, are an essential element of the 
city’s prosperity. Our river illustration shows, in the 
fore-ground, the oldest elevator in the northwest, a 
structure as antiquated in its appliances as in appear¬ 
ance, but yet substantial enough for years of further 
service. The shipping and manufacture of iron is also 
an important interest and one which will, in all probabil¬ 
ity, grow so rapidly in the future as to rival the immense 
business in cereals and produce—the product of the 
rich and almost untouched mineral regions of the north¬ 
west coming naturally to Milwaukee, where it finds a 
home market,and whence ten tributary railroads carry it 
to other manufacturing centres. The brewing interest 
is also largely represented, and so celebrated is its lager 
beer that it commands the highest price the country over. 
The natural attractions of Milwaukee are numerous. 
Lake Michigan stretches out as broad and blue and beautiful as the sea, and washes upon the beach 
waters of perfect purity. The river above the city is a shady sylvan stream. The high bluffs at 
the lake shore sink to the river and rise again on the west side, affording charming atmospheric 
effects and vistas of climbing buildings. The city is principally built of white brick, from which it 

























































































































































THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES. 


11 9 

derives its title of the Cream City. The country round about is fertile and varied, and full of 
pleasant rambles. 

The Milwaukee river has nowhere a width exceeding three hundred feet, but it is deep enough for 
the passage of the largest vessels. It is spanned by drawbridges at about every second street, and 
passes through the city like a great canal. With its tributaries, the Menomonee and Kinnikinnick, 
and its extensive system of side cuts, it affords over thirty miles of dockage within the city limits. 
Spars and sails are seen passing between stately buildings with an effect as curious as would be the 
spectacle of a ship crossing Broadway at Grand Street. The swinging of the bridges is a momen¬ 
tarily recurring excitement, and one not soothing to the temper. 

The population of Milwaukee is made up of different nationalities. The great body of the inhab¬ 
itants are Germans ; but Bohemia, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Ireland, and many other countries 
are strongly represented. To this confusion of nationalities is due the retention of customs which 
are usually abandoned by immigrants in their new home. Wooden shoes are seen on the streets ; 
women wear red stockings and surround their heads with white cloths after the fashion of the Ger¬ 
man peasants ; and wedding parties are sometimes seen on Sunday, walking the streets decked with 
ribbons and flowers. 

From Milwaukee to the Garden City is but a few hours’ pleasant sail, and on our way we meet 
the long train of heavily laden boats bearing the rich products of the West for Eastern and 
European markets. Chicago presents the most extraordinary example of rapid and, until the fire, 
uninterrupted progress of any city in this, or any other country, and to it there exists no parallel in 

\ 



Milwaukee River. 


ancient or modern times. There are men now living who recollect the site of the present city as a 
wet prairie, and in 1830 there were but seventy inhabitants. When, as has been eloquently said, it 
is remembered that this insignificant nucleus has grown within one generation to over four hundred 
and. fifty thousand, the present local estimate of the city’s population, the question presses for solu¬ 
tion—by what magic has this marvelous result been achieved ? What peculiar combination of forces 
or circumstances has wrought a progress so wonderful and so entirely unparalleled ? 

The story of the settlement of Chicago is thus told in Appleton’s American Encyclopedia: 
“ Under them (the canal commissioners of the Illinois and Michigan canal) James Thompson sur¬ 
veyed the town of Chicago, his first map being dated August 4, 1830 ; it embraced the area of three- 
eighths of a square rpile. In 1831, it contained twelve families, besides the garrison in Fort Dear¬ 
born. The town of Chicago was organized August 10, 1833, with five trustees ; it contained 560 
acres, 550 inhabitants, 29 voters, 175 buildings, and property valued at $60,000; the taxable valua¬ 
tion was $19,560, and the first year’s taxes were $48.90. On September 26, 1833, 7,000 Fottawatta- 
mies assembled there in council, and signed a treaty to remove beyond the Mississippi; they ceded 
some 20,000,000 acres to the United States for $1,100,000. Chicago was incorporated as a city 
March 4, 1837. The first election under the charter was held May 1 following, when W. B. Ogden 
was chosen mayor. The first census was taken July 1, 1837, when the city contained a population 
of 4,170.” It was not, however, until 1845 that the city became the entrepot of the immense grain- 
producing country in the interior. It is well known that the early settlers always chose as their 












120 


THE GREA T LAKES AND THEIR GREA T CITIES. 



abiding place a suitable loca¬ 
tion on some river, whence 
their products could be floated 
to market; and as the means 
of communication which now 
make Chicago the Emporium 
of the West are wholly, as 
regards communication with 
the interior, artificial, it is 
plain that for many years she 
labored under many disadvan¬ 
tages. But civilization ad- 
vanced with rapid strides and 
claimed as her own the fertile 
prairies of Illinois, so that 
when the pioneers of the net¬ 
work of railroads that now 
intersect the State were built, 
the great commercial position 
of Chicago became evident. 
A new era dawned on the 
city, and in 1845 the shipments 
of wheat eastward, which only 
o commenced in 1842, amount- 
0 ed to 1,000,000 bushels, and 
O rapidly increased until in 
a 1866, they reached 65,000,000 
& bushels ! 

<D 

~ The buildings, and parti- 
| cularly the residences, before 
£ the fire, were to a great ex- 
tent constructed of wood, 
£ which was one cause of the 
conflagration. This terrible 
calamity must be so fresh to 
the minds of all our readers 
that it is hardly necessary to 
dwell upon it here; but as 
this volume will probably find 
its way to many country read¬ 
ers to whom statistics are not 
always accessible, we subjoin 
a few facts and figures. “ The 
total area burnt over, includ¬ 
ing streets, was 2,100 acres, 
or nearly 3^ square miles ; 
number of buildings destroyed 
17,450; persons rendered 
homeless, 98,500; killed, about 
200. Among the buildings 
were the court-house, custom¬ 
house, and post-ofifice, cham¬ 
ber of commerce, gas works, 
three railroad depots, nine 
daily newspaper offices, thirty- 
two hotels, ten theatres and 










































































































































THE GREAT LAKES AND THEIR GREAT CITIES. 


121 


halls, eight public schools and several branches, forty-one churches, five elevators containing 
1,642,000 bushels of grain, and all the national banks but one.” The loss occasioned by the fire 
amounted in round figures to $200,000,000, of which one-half was covered by insurance ; but owing 
to the failure of all the local insurance companies, and many companies in other cities, a considerable 
portion of this amount was not collectable. 

Scarcely a trace now exists of this terrible conflagration, which may be called the most tragic 
event of modern times. The great fire in Boston swept out of existence property which, in point of 
mere money value, might compare with, if not rival, Chicago’s terrible loss. But in Boston it was 
only a loss of business property and merchandise, which, in most instances, was experienced by 
those who possessed, or had the means of getting, much more; whereas among the sufferers in 
Chicago were thousands of clerks and mechanics who had devoted their whole lives to the accumula¬ 
tion of their little property, and who not only lost their all, but, for the time at least, having nothing 
but the clothing they had hurriedly huddled on, were reduced to the acceptance of the charity which 
was so quickly extended from every quarter. 

The loss was enormous, but capital quickly poured in from abroad and the eastern centres, and the 
rapidity with which the work of reconstruction was accomplished can be only described as being little 
short of marvelous. Along Washington, Madison, Monroe, State and Clark streets, and the streets 
that run parallel with and across them, have since been erected the most superb blocks devoted to 
business purposes to be found in this, or we think, any other country. Description fails to give any 
idea of the regularity of design with which the buildings have been erected, and the great width of 
the' streets shows them to great advantage. 


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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